


Adventures of Two Khajiit

by NorthernAurora, VikingWalker



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Co-Written, Constructive Criticism Welcome, Daedric Quests, Dark Brotherhood - Freeform, Epic Friendship, Gen, Magical Artifacts, Random Encounters, Randomness, Snark, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-03-16 22:24:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 40,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13645662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthernAurora/pseuds/NorthernAurora, https://archiveofourown.org/users/VikingWalker/pseuds/VikingWalker
Summary: These two lovable, flawed, eccentric Khajiit will meet new and old friends, tackle new and old enemies, complete long and short quests, traverse the province of Skyrim, and reminisce about their time in Cyrodiil and Elsweyr... and maybe go back there some day... all in due time ;3 Our tale begins in the City of Stone, Markarth.





	1. Silver and Blood, Topaz and Sapphire

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome, dear reader! 
> 
> First, here is the silly ol' disclaimer, as we would rather be safe than sorry:
> 
> We write this fan-fiction under the "fair use"-flag, wherever that can be found swaying in the breeze.  
> We do not own Skyrim or any of the NPCs, quests, or in-game dialog.  
> We only own the TES IV and TES V *videogames*, and as such, we own no rights to any content that is not devised by our own minds. We write the new dialogue of NPCs with the NPC in mind, so that each behave and react according to their unique story and mindset. The same thing goes for actions.  
>   
> Doubt it will help in a court of law, but hey, at least we tried!  
>    
> Okay, now the fun stuff!  
> This is an Elder Scrolls fanfiction inspired from TES V, Skyrim. While most of the events take place in the game's namesake, the chapters will also include the province of Cyrodiil, and we may perhaps include other provinces in Tamriel later. Oh, by the way, reader: if you have an aversion or innate hatred for Khajiit, then this fanfic is probably not for you.  
>   
> The astute reader may have noticed that this fanfic is cowritten. How does that work?  
> Well, this story is co-authored by two very close friends, and it all began with a couple of text messages on our cell phones on the 1st of April 2017. We pretended the Khajiit character of one of us met the other person's Khajiit character, and that rather unremarkable beginning has now reached tens of thousands of SMSs. Along the way, we thought "hey, this story arc is actually pretty cool! How about we transfer these messages onto a computer and make a proper story out of them, just for fun?" to which the other replied something along the lines of "Oblivion yeah!"
> 
> So, we got to work, and developed one chapter at the time. The finished chapter would then be sent back and forth, and each time one would correct, expand and improve something. When we later made the decision to puplish our story online, we realized there were still improvents to be made. So we often drop by and change things here and there. Could be grammar correction (since we are both from Norway, our grammar is imperfect), another paragraph, or just a single sentence.
> 
> The process has been extremely fun, but quite tedious. We both have (at least) 7 hours of work, 5 days a week, and one of the authors is both in the choir and local revue. And we would both also like to play the game we write about, and other videogames, as much as we can. We take parts of what our characters go through in-game and write about it, or save it for later.  
> We still have dozens of drafts that have not yet been made into proper chapters, so this is likely to go on for quite some time. Months, maybe even years! Which is downright awesome :3
> 
> The female Khajiit Yoake (Yóàkk'eh) belongs to NorthernAurora (female).  
> The male Khajiit Mi'rasj (Míräsj, /mɪˈrɑːʒ/, British pronounciation) belongs to VikingWalker (male).  
> Yoake is Dragonborn, Mi'rasj is not. He has knowledge of Shouts, explained in a later chapter.
> 
> The TES games are written in American English, and we write the chapters in British English. We will not change this.
> 
> Khajiit cannot be portrayed without mentioning "Skooma". This word provided us with a challenge:  
> Should the "S" in Skooma be in uppercase or lowercase? Feel free to discuss.  
> It may be strange, after all, drugs of our world are not capitalized, why should Skooma be capitalized?  
> Because it is a "brand" drug, we figured, like Fallout's Jet or Mentats. In Skyrim, Skooma is always referred to with a capital S, so we stuck with that.
> 
> Anyway, we both welcome any comments or questions you may have, as long as they are relevant to the story, the characters and your (potential) enjoyment of either. Don't be afraid to correct or criticize, we'll add what needs adding, and fix what needs fixing, especially anything grammar related! Comments will be met with snark or humility, depending on which of us responds first ;3
> 
> NorthernAurora here, the novel above is Viking's work :P (and I'm pretty sure we are equally snarky, buddy) I just feel like I should point out that we both are playing MODDED games (gasp, shock, oh my! The horror!) though 99.5% of these mods are for increased immersion, aesthetics, or both. I have the most... extensive ones, simply because I play on a console that give me access to more and better mods (No, Viking, I wouldn't stop lording it over you that I have Beyond Skyrim.) And these may change how we describe things. Feel free to ask, but I'll try to make notes of the mods if one or more feature in a chapter.
> 
> In case anyone would like a visual representation of what Yoake de Khaja (of the Sands) looks like,  
> here is a link: https://sta.sh/0mwnntsdn5n  
> And this is Mi'rasj of Riverhold: https://sta.sh/0oim7l3xbn6  
> (We couldn't figure out how to add the pictures on this site directly)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the cold north of Tamriel, lies the homeland of the Nords, the beautiful land of Skyrim. And in this land there is an ancient Dwemer city called Markarth, and it's here, by the the bar of the Silver-Blood Inn, that two slightly-drunk Khajiit plan a raid of a mine... and well, then the ball just starts rolling. As the old saying goes: you never quite know someone, until you get drunk with them!

In Markarth, the City of Stone, just across from the entrance, lies the Silver-Blood Inn, and inside that inn, there is a bar, where two Khajiit are getting quite deep into their cups. One is male, brown-furred with black markings, eyes glinting a topaz yellow, his black hair is braided and adorned with Elsweyr gold. He is dressed in the fur and metal of Saviour’s Hide; its bone spikes adorn his shoulders. His boots and gauntlets are Forsworn-made, and go well with both his preference and fur.

By his side a slighter form sits, slender and with spotted honey fur that darkens by her sides, like a lynx or bobcat. Her pale hair is pulled back from the temples and her blue eyes glow in the gloom where they sit. Her form is shrouded in armour of dark leather and cloth, cowl pushed back to hang around her neck, and gloves shoved into her belt. There is a faint, diagonal scar across her nose.

They have met before when the male strayed too close to a giant, and now again in the City of Stone where the he-cat Mi’rasj saw the female tumble from a higher landing, nearly flattening guard.

‘‘I've told you _before_ , and I'll say it _again_ , I did not _fall_. It was _clearly_ a rapid, _controlled descent_... through the air… on...on a _cockroach_! It insulted my mother, so I jumped on it!’’ The feline female hides her embarrassment behind her tankard of mead, her eyes taking on a glazed, glassy look.

The male laughs and smirks. ‘‘But how do Yoake know the vermin's tongue?’’ Mi'rasj says as he turns drunkenly in his seat, nearly spilling his drink.  
  
‘‘I'm _clearly_ just _that_ _epic_!’’ Yoake laughs and sticks her nose in the air, adopting an air of superiority.  
  
Her fake snobbiness makes Mi’rasj laugh heartily, He quickly puts the tankard down on the counter. -Stay, he says to the tankard, pointing a clawed finger at the inanimate object. Yoake laughs and sticks her nose in the air, adopting an air of superiority.

‘‘This one will remember not to cross blades with Yoake, then...’’ he grins at her after recovering. ‘‘So... what’s next on our great adventure?’’ he asks, half expecting her to deny any adventuring with him at all. Instead, the furry female surprises him with adopting as serious expression as she can while half drunk.

‘‘Let's go raid ssome _ruinss_! And kill _whatever_ is inside! And, if we are unlucky, we can fight a dragon...’’ the enthusiastic answer surprises Mi’rasj, and a grin slowly spreads across his muzzle.

‘‘Sounds good... excellent, even,’’ he nods. ‘’...the living will die, and the undead will… die _again_! Shall we go in loud and proud, swords blazing, or should we go sneaky and stabby, kitten?’’

Yoake ponder his words for a moment.

‘‘I ain't your kitten, but we shall go sneaky, stabby and _shooty_ , trevan, _purrrr_ fect for Khajiit!’’ She gives a drunken smile, leaning her elbow on the bar to push herself up slightly. ‘’Now let’s go see what riches the dead… and undead, are hiding in their graves!’’

‘‘Mi'rasj hopes for Moonstone and sapphires, himself. But first, another ale, and maybe some grilled chicken,’’ the brown furred Khajiit answers, and signals Kleppr the barkeeper for another Honningbrew mead. Yoake smile happily by his side, with a curious look on her face.

‘‘Ahh… some _proper_ mead for me, I’ll take a Black-Briar and a horker loaf,’’ Yoake says as she turns to Mi’rasj and arcs an eyebrow.  
  
‘‘So, your name, 'Mi'rasj'... it's like the desert illusions, yes? Tell me, what is a _desert_ -cat doing in Skyrim?"

Mi'rasj scratches his ear. ‘‘Adventure! Mir comes from the desert town of Riverhold, with its many towers of vivid colours, and tasty beef and radish filled pastries... _ahhhh_...’’ He looks dreamily into the hearth with longing in his eyes, and continues.

‘‘Mir left... _four_ years ago, yes. He went straight east, to Cyrodiil and the town of Bravil. He didn't stay there long. After that, he went north, to the Imperial City. Mi'rasj knew he had to go there when he saw the legendary White-Gold Tower in the distance. Some say it holds up the _sky_!’’  
Mi'rasj takes a swig of his tankard.

Yoake had listened with gusto, her ears pricked and eyes alert, or as alert as they could be at the moment. It was new to hear the story of another well-travelled Khajiit, she had not had time to chat much with any of the caravan members as often as she wished. ‘’Yes, and then?’’

‘‘Mir slept where he could, on rooftops, in bushes, in barrels... after a while, he found out what he could do to earn coin: teaching... " _resourceful_ " adventurers how to jump higher, run further, fight with their hands, pick locks, and move unseen. Mir can tell Yoake, the locks in Skyrim are... heh, _ridiculously_ easy. _Nothing_ like the locks in Cyrodiil! Ah, many thanks, Kleppr! This one made a good bit of gold tutoring for a couple of years, but wanting to save Septims, one night Mir slept in the _waterfront_. He shouldn't have. _Someone_ took all his coin. Probably a _Sakhliit_ ,’’ causing Yoake to grin. Mi'rasj refills his tankard and drinks a generous amount of mead.

_Most Khajiit and Argonians ("Sakhliit" in Ta'agra, the mother tongue of Khajiit) no longer see eye to eye because of the Knahaten Flu, which killed thousands of Khajiit and members of other races in 2E 560. The Flu began in Black Marsh; the Khajiit blamed the Argonians, said their motive was to take revenge for the slavery and general mistreatment at the hands of other races. The Argonians claimed they were innocent, and were offended by the accusation that they had created the disease to drive off and kill non-Argonians._

‘‘Broke and hungry, thiss one stole a loaf of bread. He got caught, served hiss ssentenze, and got out. When a prisoner without a Septim to their name is releashed, they are given three hundred Septims to take care of their immediate needs, like food, water, and sshhelter. Mir bought the first two, then went north to Bruma. He took the sshhort route, across lake Rumare. Saved hisself a lot of steps.’’

‘‘How did you like Bruma? Cold? I spent some time there myself.’’

‘‘Mir did not visit Bruma city. He kept going for the Serpent's Trail. But yes, the cold was... _awful_! He was afraid he might lose his toes, fingers, ears or tail! Or _all_ of them! Well, one went through the trail, and over the beautiful Pale Pass. This one accidentally caused an avalanche while taking a sshortcut... but no matter! Now he's here. And lucky enough to find another Khajiit so far from Elsweyr! So, what is _this_ one's story?’’ he asks, nibbling on the chicken.

‘‘My story? Tell you what, Mir. My story is a lot like a minotaur's tongue: long and messy... and not suited for a bar. Sufficient to say, I have spent... _far_ too much time among humans and elves, as you can hear. When the time is right, you will hear my story... Oh, and if you come, killing the spiders will be _your_ job.’’

Mi'rasj scowls at the bottle of the Black-Briar mead Kleppr has delivered to Yoake. ‘‘Thiss one will support that _foul_ Maven Blah'Briar with that coin,’’ he says, frowning. ‘‘Mir also doubts this one will be able to shoot straight after drinking that stuff, so leaving the archery to him is a wise choice. And this one will try to fend off the spiders… _despite one’s fear of them_ ,’’ the last part is said under his breath and into his cup as he takes a swig of the tankard. ‘’...but we should not stay the night in Markarth, these stone beds are _torture_ for our sleek, wiry, springy bodies.’’

Yoake twists her tankard between her clawed hands. ‘‘Maven is a _scary_ lady… I'd rather not give her cause to go after _me_ … or the _Guild_ … or the _Brotherhood_ …’’ Her head turns, eyes surprisingly sharp for the mead she has drunk, a finger in his direction.

‘‘And watch it, _stray_ … I can outshoot you _any_ day! Also, this one only has problems when the spiders are the size of my _horse_!’’ Her look turns confused as she tilts her head. ‘’...and what do you mean, stone beds? We are staying at my house, not at the Inn…’’

Mi’rasj snaps his head up, straightening as best he can on the stool, his voice a growl as his long tail lash behind him. ‘‘ _HEY_! Watch who this one calls a stray, minx! If she is not more careful with her remarks, Yoake could very well find herself without this one's arcane flames for protection and comfort! Speaking of comfort, where is her house? When that giant clubbed Mir, his sense of direcshon got a few holes in it.’’

The she-cat narrows her blue eyes, tail swishing dangerously as her spine straightens, all signs of drunkenness evaporate, and the shadows seem somehow darker than before, flickering as if wanting to rise behind her. There is a hint of a growl in her voice as she whispers intimidatingly.

‘‘ _Cub_ … I am the _Listener_ of the Night Mother, _leader_ of the _Dark Brotherhood_ , the assassin who killed _the Emperor_. I am part of the _Thieves Guild_ , and just because I don’t _use them_ , doesn't mean I don’t have arcane gifts of my own.''

Despite being bigger and stronger than the lithe female, Mi’rasj shrinks before her, ears flattening against his head as his tail curls under him.

‘‘Mi’rasj meant no disrespect, Den-Mother…’’ He swallows nervously, but perks up slightly when he sees Yoake’s face soften.  
As quickly as it darkened, the air clears again, and the dark-clad she-cat turn back to her drink, continuing in a softer tone.

‘‘I am Thane of this city, so my house is Vlindrel Hall, that overlook the whole of Markarth... and anyone's sense of direction would have holes in it after being launched into the sky,’’ rolling her eyes with a snort.

‘’Strange thing, as Mir was hurled towards our beloved Masser and Secunda, this one felt a strange urge to say " _Hús-tòn_ , we have a problem".  
  Could have been the whispers of Sheggorath reaching this one's delicate ears.’’ Straightening enough to lean back against the bar, the male ponders out loud:

‘‘Vlindrel Hall _has_ proper beds, Mir recalls from the one time he was there. _Before_ Yoake moved in, of course. But Arvak will occupy the housecarl's bed, and the only other one is the bed in the master- uhm... _mistress_ bedroom. Does this one imply we that are going to _share_?’’ He casts a sly grin at Yoake at the question and cannot hide the fact that the prospect is quite intriguing to him. Mi'rasj only gets a deadpan look in return. With a sigh, the young she-cat reaches out and scratches her companion behind his ear.

‘‘Calm down, trevan. This one is only joking… mostly. And what do you mean _Arvak_ will sleep in the bed? Your _skeletal horse_ is sleeping in the _stables_ , not at my _house_ … I’m going to assume you meant _Argis_ , and take the fact that you got them mixed together as proof that you have had enough mead... and yes, we _will_ share the bed... but there will be _no_ funny-business!’’

Using the skill of an experienced sneak thief, Yoake stealthily snatches the male’s drinking cup from the counter. The brown-furred Khajiit doesn’t notice, as he's too busy staring unfocused into the air, pondering.

‘‘Mir wonders if our stheeds will fare well in the cold out there. Granted, they are both otherworldly, but still…’’ Turning to the counter, he reaches for his tankard which is nowhere to be found. ‘‘Hey, has this one seen the mead?’’

Yoake raises her head slightly from where it rests on her folded arms on the countertop, her voice filled with sarcasm.

‘‘You _puffed_ it away with your _amaaazing_ powers... It’s just as well, this one thinks it’s time for bed. _Oufh_... how much do we owe you, Kleppr?’’ the female says as she tries to stand, nearly stepping on her tail and falling on her behind. Kleppr frowns and rubs his bearded chin.  
  
‘‘ _Hmm_... quite a bit of mead; Nord, Honningbrew, Black-Briar... chicken, horker... seeing as it's _you_ , Thane and whatnot, sixty Septims from each is what I will ask.’’

The he-cat nods in an agreeing, albeit sheepish manner due to the mead in his body. ‘‘Good deal, innkeep! Woah, careful there kitten, Mir thinks the mead was more potent than we anti...si, zi...ci... _thought_!  Som'thin' weird is happening to his voice again!’’  
  
Mi’rasj tries not to laugh as he slurs, and slings Yoake’s arm over one shoulder, and his dusty burlap haversack over the other, while trying not to poke her with the spikes on his armour, or stumble himself. Each placing sixty Septims on the counter, the two Khajiit make for the door and Vlindrel Hall with the male in the lead. Kleppr watches as the two drunken Khajiit leave, before grabbing the coins with a smirk.

After many steps and many digressions, the two cats finally arrive at the door after heading up and around several of the city's many, many stairs. The brown Khajiit rouses the female in his arms, so she can unlock the door.

‘‘Ahhhh, here we are… why are there sho many shtairs in this place… Hey, could this one unlock the door for us?’’

The answer comes in a confused voice and with a puzzled expression.

‘‘Mi’rasj… this isn’t my house… These are the wrong stairs…’’

Blinking, the male look around in mild embarrassment, catching sight of the sign beside the door. ‘‘Oh... this is the house of Nepos the _Nose_. Heh. Well… back to the shtairs we go, then.’’

Turning and walking back the way they came, he can’t help but smile at Yoake's tipsy song.  
  
‘‘Two _drunk_ Khajiit walkin' up the _stairs_ … the stairs… the stairs… the _stairs_. And we’re _not_ fallin' _down_ , and we’re _not_ stumblin' _off_... the _stairs_ …the stairs…the…’’ The song fades off as its creator start to look around in bewilderment.

‘‘Um… Where are we…?’’

The male cast his eyes about, equally lost in the maze-like city.

‘‘ _It_ … _sheems_... we are outshide the... the Temple of Dibella!’’ He exclaims when he sees a building he recognises. Grinning down at the honey-furred feline, he continues.

‘‘It would appear Yoake's singing dishtracted this one, _hah_!’’

‘‘Let’s just… find the market place... my house should be just up and to the right from there. Then again... the Inn is just beside the market…’’

Straightening beside Mi’rasj, the female points in the general direction of the entrance where the market is located during the day.  
Tripping somewhat over their own feet, the two cats make their way through the quiet city, reaching the point where they started, and begin ascending the stairs again. This time, Yoake is more lucid, and manages to point them up the correct set of stairs.

At long last, the metal doors of Vlindrel Hall stand before them, and on the other side, a narrow hallway, a large living room, a smaller sitting room and finally the bedroom with its soft, warm bed. Argis, the housecarl, is snoring in his room to the left. Stumbling into the mistress bedroom, and more falling on than sitting on the bed, Yoake start to tug her boots off, dropping them beside the bed with her gloves, cowl and a rather impressive assortment of pointy objects she had been concealing about her person. After Mi’rasj slides his haversack off his shoulder and places it in the corner, he sits down on the other side of the king-sized bed. Yoake tilts her head, looking distantly into the sitting room.

‘‘Why doesn’t my bedroom have any doors…? A bedroom should have a door… or _something_ …’’

‘‘Why doesh the lack of doorsh concern Yoake? In the presencshe of _Mi'rasj of Riverhold_ , she need not worry 'bout a thing.’’  
  
The female in question mumble unintelligibly, falling back on the bed. As she drags herself up to the pillows, she glares at the male beside her with one blue eye.

 ‘‘Mir… if you _ever_ let me… drink that much again... I will do something... _terrible_ to you. Like… hiding _itching_ powder in strange places… and make sure it only affects _you_.’’ Her threat delivered, she closes her eyes, and still dressed in her ancient shrouded armour, she falls asleep completely ignorant to the male’s bemused gaze.

Mi'rasj scratches his ear, sighs and chuckles as he shakes his head. He takes off his Forsworn boots and gauntlets, slides Saviour's Hide over his head, and throws his armour in the corner, next to his haversack containing his nomadic life. Now in nothing but his loincloth, he crawls under the blanket, and beholds Yoake one last time before falling fast asleep, as a bellyful of mead will often make you do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta'agra Dictionary
> 
> Trevan = Friend  
> Sakhliit = Argonian
> 
> All Ta'agra words are found on http://www.taagra.com/
> 
> There are lots of nods/easter eggs/references to other Elder Scrolls games, or other Bethesda games in most chapters.  
> Sometimes there are elements or references to even song titles or lyrics from our world!  
> So if you somehow (you're awesome if you do) read the chapters through a second time, you might catch a few ;)  
> But this is no easter egg-hunt. The author included them for their relevance to the content and context.


	2. The game is afoot. Or a leg. Or all manner of severed limbs!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go raiding... as soon as the hangover is gone.

The following morning Yoake wakes up feeling rather groggy. She slowly opens her eyes to find Mi'rasj having snatched the blanket for himself, and then apparently tried to mimic the bandaging ritual of a draugr in his sleep.

‘‘ _He's gonna have fun when he wakes up,_ ’’ she silently laughs as she gets up, groaning when she realise she had fallen asleep almost fully dressed. Yoake stretches slowly and extensively, grabs shrouded robes from the wardrobe, and pads to the bathtub made of carved wood. Argis has been so kind to boil a generous amount of water to prepare a bath for his Thane before he went back to his quarters for breakfast.

Meanwhile, Mi'rasj is still sleeping soundly, unaware of the spectacle that takes place just a few fathoms away. After a while, he senses that his tail is cold. ‘‘ _Mfh, cold... must be morning_ ,’’ he reasons. Then his keen ears pick up the movement of water somewhere nearby. ‘‘ _Bathing_?’’  
Mi'rasj slowly opens his topaz eyes. Yoake is nowhere to be seen. The sleepy Khajiit tries to scratch his ear, eager to join her, but his arm, as well as the rest of his body, is thoroughly entangled into the blanket.  
‘‘ _Did Mi'rasj or the minx do this_?’’ he wonders.

While he ponders the specifics of how he ended up blanket-bound, and how exactly to get free, Yoake emerges from the bath, clad in soft shrouded robes. Grinning at the male's perplexed face, she answers the unspoken question.

‘‘You did that all on your own, friend... I'm actually quite impressed!’’

Making no move to help, she instead strolls over to the kitchen, telling the struggling Khajiit that there will be food then he gets free and dressed.

‘‘We also have to plan what ruin to raid,’’ she says, while preparing breakfast, knowing he could easily hear her two rooms away. The promise of food make Mi'rasj redouble his efforts, which thankfully pays off. He manages to break free of his bondage and sits up at the edge of the bed. Feeling the cold of the stone floor on his hind-paws urges him to act. He stands up, stretches, and walks with heavy steps towards the corner where his armour and haversack are laying. He re-equips Saviour’s Hide, and his Forsworn boots and gauntlets, then heads out into the kitchen area.

‘‘What is to be expected on this fine morning?’’ he asks. ‘‘Elsweyr fondue?’’

Yoake look up from the suspended casserole over the fire she is leaning over, her blue eyes laughing at Mi'rasj's bed fur, his hair being a total disaster, something he quickly catches on. Smiling, he licks the palm of his hand and glides it over his head, realigning the braids that were the most astray. He then seats himself at the table, studying the unfolded map that lies on it. Snorting, Yoake turn back to the food.

‘‘No, sadly I don't have the spices for that... they are hard to get in this cold land. So, we will have to make due with common stew.’’

‘‘Pity. This one hope it has some salmon in it... Shall we have a go at Kolskeggr Mine, and then move towards Falkreath? Mir must say, he longs for the warm, lush forests there.’’

Yoake approaches the table with two steaming bowls of stew in her hands. The smell is divine! She puts down a bowl in front of the starving Mi'rasj, then flops down at the chair across from him.

‘‘That sounds good. After that we could head towards Dawnstar. I got a... _job_... I have recently completed. No salmon in the stew, I apologize, one does not particularly like that fish,  but there is plenty of meat and bacon,’’ she says to the he-cat, whose bowl is already half-empty.

‘‘Eh? This one hears the voice of the Mother of Night?’’ Mi'rasj asks, his full spoon forgotten halfway between the bowl and his mouth, apparently last night's drinking has left his memory fussy.

‘‘Yes... this one most certainly do. She is calling me, her faithful Listener, back to her to give me another contract...’’ Yoake's eyes becomes unfocused for an instant. Mi'rasj nods with lenience, then breaks the silence.

‘‘Dawnstar is directly north of Whiterun, no? Perhaps we could pay Balgruuf a visit. This one can distract him while Yoake raids his armoury... and pantry!’’

‘‘Mhyes. Good idea! It's been a while since I went on a proper pantry raid. But first, Kolskeggr Mine! Let's see what treasures we can dig up!’’  
  
Mi'rasj scratches his ear, trying to remember what he has heard and read about Kolskeggr. ‘‘Hmm... it is infested by Forsworn of all ranks. Remember: aim for the "heart" of the Briarhearts with weapons and spells. More damage is done to them if their new heart is struck. There is also a lot of gold ore there, over fifteen deposits, Mir has heard. He is certain we will find a conveniently placed pickaxe to mine with... or swing in someone's eye.’’

Yoake smiles, finishing her bowl of stew. ‘‘Did you know a good sneak thief can steal a Briarheart's _heart_? Do that, and they fall over dead... and there is _always_ a convenient pickaxe or two in mines,’’ she says, as she goes back to the bedroom to put on her ancient shrouded armour, and collecting her impressive weapons on the way. Mi'rasj nods and stand up, patting his belly. The warm stew did wonders for his head. Until it had arrived in his stomach, it had felt as if there was a Dwemer centurion angrily swinging its hammer inside his skull, oblivion-bent on causing damage.

‘‘Mi'rasj _do_ know that one can rip it out. Though to do so, one would have to get close to both the victim and their kin, all armed to their teeth! This one enjoys staying in the shadows, unseen and unheard, the only sign of his presence being the arrows the heads of his victims... but he also likes to assault using flanking and mobility, Illusion and Destruction, it certainly gets the blood flowing... of both Mir and his enemies. _Oh_ , remember to bring the Blade of Woe, Yoake! And some Soul Gems to claim their souls with! This lot deserves it!’’

‘‘What is the point of being a good thief if you can't steal someone's heart?’’, Yoake muses while heading over to the pantry for supplies. ‘‘...but it is indeed very fun to shoot enemies from dark corners, and watch as their kin run around in confusion, not knowing where the danger is. And I will bring my Blade of Woe, as well as Dawnbreaker... do you think I should bring my Daedric arrows, or will it be enough with just glass and ebony?’’

Mi'rasj is unsure whether his own heart has been stolen or not.

‘‘Indeed... the guiding light of Dawnbreaker will be useful if we are forced into unforeseen battle. But do not waste rare Daedric arrows on petty humans! No, save those arrows for the large threats: giants, mammoths, Dwemer centuri and dragons! We may face a few on our way to Dawnstar.’’

Yoake replies from the depths of the pantry shelves, head bobbing up and down looking for useful things one might need.

‘‘Let's avoid the giants this time, shall we? You don't need another trip to Masser... or Secunda! And we should be careful when in Falkreath... at least _I_ should... _I don't think anyone saw me, but better safe than in jail_...’’ the last part of her reply is spoken under her breath, but Mi'rasj's keen Khajiit ears pick it up nonetheless. ‘‘Do you need any potions of some kind?’’, she continues.

‘‘Agreed", he says, as he tightens the straps and buckles of his armour, boots and gauntlets. ‘‘We Khajiit can outrun those brutes when we have to. _Hmm_ , Mir only need a healing potion of two, to drink right before he dies. He already has other... "potions" he may need... _Waaait_ , is Yoake referring to the escape of Sinding? Or did she do something stupid on the side?’’

Yoake stops searching for a while, and tries to find right the words. ‘’...I _may or may not_ have assassinated the Jarl's housecarl...’’

‘‘Hhhh... contract or pleasure?’’

Yoake turns and looks at Mi'rasj with a deadpan look. ‘‘Yeees, because I _totally_ assassinate people just for the heck of it! _Contract of course_!  
_Do you think me a murderer_?!’’

Mi'rasj raises his hands in reassurance.

‘‘No, relax, there is no need to fluff the tail! Accidents happen. Could have been that the arrow that missed the dragon found the housecarl instead. But it is good to know Yoake does not murder everyone... like that... _Cicero_ once did.’’

There is underlying anger in the jester's name, triggering Yoake's curiosity. She recollects herself. Shrugging, she goes back to searching the pantry.

‘‘If it had been an accident, I would not have called it an assassination, besides, being an assassin is fun enough, but I try not to kill anyone except the target, if I can. I snuck into his room while everyone was sleeping, and slit his throat. Of course, when one is in a ruin, mine or tomb, and stuff is trying to kill you... then it's another matter entirely...'' A growl enters her voice as her eyes grow hard. ‘‘And that... that _cursed_  little man was _mad_ **,** he went after his own brothers and sisters! He is one of the few this one have been _glad_ to kill.’’

Having gathered what she needs, she take a few moments to collect herself, before taking a deep breath and stepping away from the pantry, and towards the main door, with a roomy bag over her shoulder. ‘‘Ready to go, trevan?’’

Mi'rasj is almost set, answering as he heads back to the mistress bedroom for his haversack.

‘‘ _Jer_ killed the crazy jester? Good! Mir thinks Cicero could hug someone with one arm, while stabbing them with the other. This one met him north of Whiterun, outside the Loreius farm, when he was walking to Dawnstar...’’ The cat sits on the kitchen table, his eyes unfocused, his mind distant.

‘‘...a wheel on the wagon the jester was on had broken off. He asked Mi'rasj to enlist the help of a nearby farmer, Loreius. The whole thing smelled rotten fish, so Khajiit notified a nearby guard of the situation. But when he came back from Dawnstar, both Loreius and his wife had been slain during the night. The guard said they had been stabbed so many times, one could _not count!_ Undoubtedly the work of the crazy jester. Mir did not see him again. But now he knows justice has been served. Well done, serushna!’’

Sending a dazzling grin at Yoake, the male jumps off the table. ‘‘Eh... but to answer the rest, innocents need not die, Mi'rasj agrees. Yes, in a ruin, mine or tomb, it is self-defence. Kill or be killed. Alright, this one is ready. To the stables we go, then!’’

‘‘To the stables, _INDEED,’’_ Yoake shouts dramatically, and delivers a kick to the main door, intent on throwing it wide open. As her foot connects, Yoake immediately rebound and falls on her behind and tail, while Mi'rasj can barely breathe because of his hysterical laughing as he holds himself up against the door, which is locked.

‘‘Ach, _ARGIS_! From now on, unlock the door when you hear me wake up!’’ Yoake shouts, both embarrassed and laughing. 

A steady ‘‘Yes, my Thane!’’ can be heard from Argis' quarters.

Mi'rasj goes through the amusing, overly-illustrative gesture of slowly grabbing the small metal bar, and sliding it out of the hole in the wall.

‘‘Want to try again?’’ he says while extending a helping hand, with a grin on his face the Cheshire Cat of Elsweyr legends would envy.

Yoake sighs and takes his hand. After being helped on her feet, she straightens her armour and hair, and bellows ‘‘To the stables, _INDEED_ ,’’ while giving the door a kick she feels it deserves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta'agra dictionary:
> 
> Trevan = Friend  
> Jer = You  
> Serushna = Beauty(ful)
> 
> All Ta'agra words are found on http://www.taagra.com/


	3. Cathay Carnage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First time the two Khajiit work together, and it goes surprisingly well, actually.  
> (Cathay is one of the many sub-species of Khajiit - the Khajiit in Oblivion and Skyrim are Cathay)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Light violence in this chapter, namely:  
> -Arrows in people  
> -Someone will drown  
> -Swords in people  
> -Blood

Stepping out into the noon sun, and onto the landing a few feet from her door, Yoake pause to look over the railing. Vlindrel Hall is on the highest tier of the city, and Markarth lies spread below them. Directly under them is a narrow street, another set of stairs and under that, the marketplace, where the canvas roof of the jeweller's booth flaps lazily in the breeze. The young Khajiit look at Mi'rasj over her shoulder, a smirk on her face.

‘‘I dare you to jump down!’’ she says with a twinkle in her eyes and challenge in her tone.

The male narrow his own golden eyes thoughtfully as he walks to railing beside the female, judging the distance down.  
The sun is warm and welcoming, making the gold in his hair glint as the wind rustles playfully through his braids.

‘‘Challenge _accepted_!’’ he says, as he secures his haversack.

With a deftness and elegance only matched by another well-bred Khajiit, he jumps, flips and spins before landing safely on all fours on the jeweller's roof. Looking back up at the dark-clad she-cat, still standing high above, he smiles.

‘‘Now it's this one's turn!’’ he shouts, confidence in his voice.

Back up at the landing, Yoake simply arcs an eyebrow, then turns around and backflips over the railing, landing on her feet on the staircase below, before flipping back to push against the edge of the stairs with her hands, twisting in the air to land softly beside the wide-eyed jeweller, a smug smile on her face.

‘‘Like _that_?'' she laughs, sauntering towards the huge entrance doors, barely offering Mi'rasj a single look. Although she cannot see it, the Khajiit is grinning from ear to ear, watching the woman walk.

‘‘Like _that_ ,'' he says to himself as he throws the cross-armed, frowning jeweller a Septim for the dirty boot marks on his roof, and heads after Yoake out the city's ancient metal gates. As they approach the stables, Shadowmere and Arvak both raise their heads, happy to see their masters and eager to get going.

‘‘I can hear you grinning, Mir!’’ Yoake smiles over her shoulder as she saddles the huge red-eyed stallion with the swiftness of long practice, skillfully ignoring the beast trying to sniff out the apples he knows his feline mistress always carries.

‘‘Now get your tail moving, and your eyes off mine, so we have a chance of reaching Kolskeggr before the sun goes behind the mountains!’’

Quickly averting his eyes from the furry pendulum they were fixed upon, the brown Khajiit thank the gods fur work well for hiding blushing.  
‘‘This one suppose minx can _see_ tastes and _hear_ colours as well?’’ he quips in an attempt to counter Yoake's comment, as he lets Arvak sniff his hand with his skeletal snout.

Elegantly swinging onto Shadowmere's back, the female feline nudge the horse into a slow walk.

‘‘No, I can't, though I have heard it's possible with a herb called catnip… Anyway, you are _male_ , my fine feline friend, and males work the same _regardless_ of species!’’

The she-cat laugh as she rides past Mi'rasj, flicking her tail under his nose. Mi'rasj had stood with his hands on Arvak, having been preparing to jump up. After sneezing from the sensation of Yoake's fluffy tail on his nose, he stares stupefied after the dark rider heading down the road at a steady trot. A smile slowly appears on his face.

‘‘Well, at least she acknowledges Mir's _gender_ … that is a _start_...’’ Smiling, he prime his legs and jump onto his skeletal horse's back, and hurries after Yoake and Shadowmere.

Already at the bridge, the golden-furred feline has halted her mount to wait for Mi'rasj to catch up.

‘‘What took you so long? Daydreams?’’ she smirks at the male, kicking the stallion into a canter over the bridge as Arvak draws up beside them. Casting his horse a speculative look, she continues. ‘‘By the way, have one ever thought of using a saddle? Your horse is quite bony… I can't imagine sitting on the spine being very… _ahem_ … _comfortable_ for you.’’

‘‘Hm? Ah, yes, daydreams, one could call it that...’’ Clearing his throat, the male raises his voice to be heard over the thundering hooves. ‘‘A saddle? No, this one does not think it will stay on whenever Arvak... disappears to where he is when one tell him to leave, or summon him somewhere else. And it would just in the way of rapid dismounting when a dragon comes _swooping_ with its claws and fangs and breath. Mir likes to keep things simple. Arvak is bony, true, but willpower defeat pain!’’

Mi'rasj would have been convincing had it not been for his not-so subtle wince and quiet, sporadic _omfh_ and _ouch_. Thundering through the narrow mountain valley, they slow as they near Kolskeggr Mine, and see the Forsworn archers and sword-wielders that are guarding the entrance. The day has already started to darken between the mountains, and Khajiit eyes are sharper than humans, so the guards are not yet aware of the two cats, though they soon will be...

 

Stopping a distance away from the mine, Yoake and Mi'rasj lead their horses off the road, to a place they will not be so easily seen.  
Spinning her trusty ebony bow, enchantet to set fire on what she hits, from its place on her back, Yoake grin wickedly at her companion.

‘‘Sneak around and snipe them?’’ Turning to her beast, she draws an apple from the saddlebags, holding it out to for Shadowmere to munch. ‘‘Wait here, old friend, all right?’’ she asks, stroking the otherworldly horse over its velvety nose. His ears pricked forward and eyes alert, Mi'rasj answer her grin with his own.

‘‘Mhyes. We start with the Forsworn on the edge of the camp. One after one, we close in on the middle, never letting them know where we are. _Quick and easy_.’’

Drawing his own paralysing Imperial bow, he pets his own horse on their bony nose.  
‘‘Arvak, stay here with Shadowmere.'' Turing to the she-cat, he gives a small, showy bow. ‘‘Ready, minx?’’

With a laugh, Yoake give an equally showy courtesy, she draws her cowl up and melt into the shadows, sneaking silently in the direction of the mine.

‘‘More than ready, partner.'' Nocking a Dwemer arrow on the bowstring, she nests into a dark corner near some rocks above the mine entrance.

‘‘I start from the left and you from the right?’’ her voice murmur from the shadows, impossible to hear for anyone that do not possess the superior hearing of a Khajiit.

‘‘Agreed. May fortune smile upon us,’’ the he-cat murmur back equally quiet from his own hiding spot, as they both take aim. One by one their arrows fly, one by one their enemies fall. Those not yet dead run around in increasing panic as they are unable to find their attackers. One get hit in the head, and die engulfed in flames as he turns unknowingly toward the Khajiit's hiding place.

‘‘Fortune favours the bold…’’ Yoake laugh silently in the shadows, fangs glinting in the remnants of daylight as the she watches the remaining Forsworn run around like panicked ants.

Mi'rasj nods and fires an arrow into a well-armored Forsworn by the riverbank, who does not die of the shot. Instead, the Forsworn's body stops all motion, frozen in the cowering stance he was in. Unfortunately for him, his center of gravity is closer to the river than it is to the hill, and the poor barbarian rolls into the frothing river and drowns, unable to stay afloat in his current state.

Deciding to have some fun, Yoake slips down the rocks unseen, exchanging her bow for the Blade of Woe at her side. There is only one Forsworn left, spinning in a frightened circle at the edge of the camp. Mi'rasj readies an arrow, drawing back the string slowly. He plans to go for a neckshot this time. But just before he plans to release, the Forsworn drops dead, his throat slit. In his place, Yoake stands, only her muzzle visible under the shade of her cowl and blood dripping from the blade in her hand.

‘‘That was _fun_ ,'' she grins up at Mi'rasj' surprised face. ‘‘Shall we go inside, trevan?’’

Jumping down from the rocks to help Yoake go through the dead men's pockets, Mi'rasj pout at her. ‘’Of course... though Mir only got to shoot _four_ … Yoake stole most of the fun!’’

The feline woman only laughs, straightening from taking an arrow out from a Forsworn.  
‘‘You just have to get quicker on the draw, my friend. But the first group inside is yours… unless you want help.’’

Spinning her blades expertly before sheathing them, Yoake smile crookedly at Mi'rasj from where she leans against the wall outside the mine doors, blue eyes sparkling with mischief.  
Scoffing silently, the male pad over to his waiting companion while scratching his ear.

‘‘If Mir needs help, he will signal. Stay close, _minx_ ,’’ pushing open the flimsy wooden doors, he leads them into the darkness of the twisting mine shaft.

‘‘Then I will simply watch from the shadows… if your fighting is worth watching,’’ the female winks at Mi'rasj from the darkness at his side, her voice teasing as they near a corner. The two Khajiit peer out into the room.

 

A small group of five Forsworn, including a Briarheart, sit around a fire, eating their dinner. Tilting her head as Mi'rasj prepare to attack, Yoake settle comfortable into the shadows to watch. Mi'rasj has full view of the group's surroundings. He slides his haversack off his shoulder, readies his imperial bow, nocks a deadly two-pronged Forsworn arrow, draws, and releases.

Immediately after his right hand is free, before the arrow strikes, using the lightning-fast reflexes of a focused Khajiit, he readies a frenzy spell. A split second after the arrow hits the back of the head of the Forsworn that was unfortunate enough to have his back towards the lethal cat, a red ball of magical energy is heading towards the Briarheart of the group.

The energy connects, and in the fleeting moment when his kin have just started to realize what happened, the Briarheart is forced into a fit of uncontrolled and unrestrained rage! He roars a blood-freezing battle cry, and kicks the closest Forsworn into the fire, setting his fur-composed clothes ablaze instantly. His comrades are struck with surprise, and have little time to react when the Briarheart quickly use his sword to cleave open the throat of a stunned Forsworn. The final "innocent" Forsworn has time to react, but defending yourself against such rampant fury is futile, something he quickly finds out. His life ends abruptly, as the Briarheart thrusts his foul sword into the abdomen, and up into the chest cavity of his latest victim.

Unfortunately, the Forsworn that is now feeling the scorching heat of rampant fire, still has enough vigour to try to run away! He screams while he runs for the exit, his burning clothes lighting up the shadows, and towards the two Khajiit hidden in them! In a few short leaps, the Briarheart caught up with his fiery kin, and severed his spine. However, the Khajiit are now illuminated by the burning of the man's clothes and flesh, and are concealed by the shadows no more! The still-frenzied Briarheart approaches rapidly, with bloodlust in his eyes.

Mi'rasj rapidly taps Yoake's foot with his tail, signalling it is time for a battle he cannot win alone. The she-cat grins and charges with Dawnbreaker with her right hand, and the Blade of Woe in her left. Mi'rasj follows suit, drawing his Skyforged Nord Hero sword enchanted to absorb both health and stamina. A fierce battle between the two agile Khajiit and the berserk Briarheart ensues. The enraged Forsworn fights ferociously, showing no signs of tiring. He keeps the two nimble Khajiit at bay, forcing them to duck and dodge to avoid getting disemboweled.

Yoake is Mi'rasj both know all too well that they cannot win against a Briarheart in a contest of strength or stamina. But by using wits and teamwork, they may stand a chance! Yoake catches Mi'rasj' eye for a moment, signalling that she will absorb their foe's attack, so Mi'rasj can get a shot at the unnatural being's back. He catches on Yoake's intentions, and in a flurry of both coordination and cooperation, the Khajiit manages to stab his sword into the Briarheart between the ribs of his back, through the magical flower empowering him, and out of his chest in a mighty scream and a fountain of blood! The cats are victorious!

 

Yoake was unfortunate enough to catch the fountain of blood straight in her face. She looks at Mi'rasj over the corpse of the Briarheart, wild grin on the face.

‘‘Well, that was fun... shall we find some more and do it again?’’ Grinning through the mask of blood, she sheathes her blades.  
Mi'rasj puts his sword back in his belt ring, then squats and goes through the Briarheart's pouches.  
Yoake saw he found something, but she could not see what. The he-cat looks up, tilts his head and laughs.

‘‘Hehe, Yoake looks good in red! But yes, we should push on, and finish what we have started. Our enemies will not expect such a rapid assault... heh, when we are done, we will both probably be as red as snowberries!’’

‘‘Ugh... _sticky_... sounds good, although I would like to wash first. I want to get this blood out of my fur before it hardens. One hate getting matted by blood.’’

The he-cat smiles. ‘‘Mir thought this one was used to sticky situations...’’

‘‘Not _this_ kind of sticky!’’

‘‘...well, there is the river outside, but that may have been swarmed by Forsworn reinforcements, waiting for us. We should go deeper. Unless... Yoake will settle for... spit.’’

‘‘Lick me now and and I will cut of your tongue with a dull butterknife... but I guess you could help me get this stuff off when we get home... _IF_ you behave!’’

Mi'rasj approaches slowly, tilting his head. ‘‘So, this one is saying that Mir has permission to lick this one... under the right circumstances?’’

 _‘‘Pihalko'i_... I'm covered in Briarheart blood, which is probably poisonous, now is _not_ the time for flirting! ...and I'm stating _maybe_ , under the right circumstances, _if_ you behave!" Yoake give her partner an annoyed look as she tries to wipe off as much blood as possible with a rag.

The he-cat approaches, extending his palms. In his right hand is a small, flawless topaz, golden like his eyes, and in his left, is a small, flawless sapphire, blue like the eyes of the Khajiit he is watching intently.

‘‘Wafa found this on the Briarheart. Pick one... heh, it's not a trick,’’ he smiles. Yoake grabs the topaz.

‘‘Now you'll always have an eye on me, eh?’’, she says. The he-cat nods.

‘‘Gzalzi vaberzarita maaszi: absurdity has become necessity. Mir will wait for the opportunity to fusozay _var var_ : enjoy life.’’

The female is perplexed, this being the first time her companion has spoken complete sentences in Ta'agra. ‘‘What?’’

‘‘Those are Khajiiti expressions, dear. From the great book 'Ahzirr Traajijazeri', that Mi'rasj follows. Great words to live by and die by. It is too bad this one has not heard of this book.’’

‘‘This one _know Ta'agra_ , Mi'rasj, she simply has not heard you speak it much. _Ahzirr Traajijiazeri..._  Hmm... it sounds familiar, probably have it in the shelf back home... but I find so many books, I can't remember them all... And _some_ I'd rather forget _exist_." Giving up on scrubbing blood out of her fur, and reasonably sure it will not get to matted, the still red-faced female shudder as a couple of...''interesting'' books enter her memory.

‘‘Ah, like "The Lusty Argonian _Maid_ " or "The Sultry Argonian _Bard_ "? _Hahah_!’’

Yoake give Mi'rasj a soft smack on the arm. ‘‘Yes, _those_ books! Filthy, filthy writing! What kind of individuals read those, anyway? _Never_ speak of them again, please!’’

‘‘As this one wishes,’’ Mi'rasj says with a laugh, while going back to the tunnel corner for his haversack.

The two Khajiit push on, slowly making their way further into the mountain, killing any Forsworn they see, and start to feel tired: the effects of yesterday nights drinking still lingers. After Yoake stabs another Forsworn in the back, they pause for a bit.

‘‘We have been exploring and fighting for quite some time now...’’ Yoake says.

‘‘...and we traveled a fair distance before that. What say you we find somewhere to rest until morning? ... _even if all this blood is going to be even worse then_ ,’’ the last part she grumbles to herself.

‘‘Indeed, we have,’’ Mir agrees readily.

‘‘We should find the sleeping area of these vermin. The Forsworn make comfy bedrolls using the pelts of the animals they kill... Khajiit hopefully _not_ among them!’’

 

After a while, the two Khajiit reach the sleeping quarters of the Forsworn-occupied mine. Pelts and bedrolls of leather and fur lie all around. They sneak around and check the surrounding rooms for enemies. There is a mess hall with tables, chairs, bowls and cutlery, and Mi'rasj takes an iron knife from a table and flicks it around, ready to use it on an unsuspecting Forsowrn. On their right is a narrow tunnel onwards, that Yoake slowly ventures into, and to the left is a supply room with barrels and crates, occupied by a female Forsworn shaman.  She is going through the containers and writing down their contents on a piece of paper. Next to her, leaning on a barrel, is a strange, metallic staff with three faces in various expressions encircling the tip.

The he-cat prepares the iron knife, holding it by the blade, and throws it into the shaman's back head, killing her instantly. Their vicinity is free of malevolent beings, for the time being, he straightens himself and goes over the paper note the shaman was scribbling. Rather uninteresting, the barrels are mostly full of construction materials like nails, fittings and hinges. He grabs the staff, and uses his nose to find Yoake. She hsa gone back to the sleeping quarters and is sitting on a bedroll, having unequipped her ancient shrouded armour, and is now clad in black, snug leather pants, and a grey sleeveless linen tunic that shows off the spotted pattern of her fur. She tilts her head when she sees the staff Mi'rasj is holding.

‘‘ _Oooh_ , give it here!’’ she exclaimed, making grabby hands at the staff. He smiles, and hands it to the giddy female after sliding off his haversack. Her clawed fingers immediately begin to carefully study the strange staff.

As the she-cat examine the staff, Mi'rasj unequips his Forsworn gauntlets, and sits down on a rickety wooden chair, and pulls off his boots.

‘’These bedrolls sure look inviting,’’ he says with a tired smile. He pulls his dusty burlap trousers from his haversack and puts them on, before sliding Saviour's Hide over his head. He places the armour by his weapons, next to his haversack, and sits down cross-legged at the bedroll. The he-cat smiles as he watches Yoake's expression, one of utmost fascination. His lean, wiry torso is shivering with anticipation.

‘‘What can Yoake make of it?’’ he asks, leaning forward and tilting his head. ‘‘...is it Restoration? Destruction? Alteration? Illusion? ... _mysticism_? _Combination_? _Neither_?" he asks as he fondles the sapphire in his hands, his tail slowly moving about. Yoake takes a break in analysing the staff, making sure her weapons can be reached easily from her bedroll, before reaching into her bag for some dried meat and a small water skin.

‘‘All of them... or neither. I can't be sure until I test it on someone...’’ Yoake's eyes narrow, mouth pursing in a mischievous smile as she eyes the shirtless male speculatively. Mi'rasj's smile turns nervous at this development, and he quickly raises his hand.

‘‘There was a chicken in the supply room!’’ he says, pointing to draw the attention away from himself.

‘‘ _Excellent_ , let's go!’’

Yoake leaves the meat and water skin at her side and leaps up, nearly skipping towards the supply room with Mi'rasj in tow. ‘‘ _Hm, those leather pants look good on her..._ ’’ he thinks to himself, nearly bumping into the female feline when she suddenly stops when she spots the nervous chicken.

‘‘Alright, chicken! How would you like to be my lab-fowl?’’ she says, leaning forward and adopting a rather amusing, wide-legged stance, pointing the staff at the hapless egg layer. It exclaims a " _ba-gerk_ " as the staff hurls forward a small ball of red energy, not unlike that of a frenzy spell. When it connects, however, the chicken is abruptly transformed into a _cheese wheel_!

Both Khajiit stare at the block of cheese with wide eyes and open mouths. Mi'rasj scratches his ear, and is the first to break the silence.

‘‘Ehh, it's been a long, arduous day. The cheese from _that_ will certainly _not_ be this one's supper! Let's head back to the bedrolls, okay?’’

Yoake nods, before walking over to the wheel, and carves it up with the iron knife she pulls out of the head of the shaman.

‘‘At least now we don't have to worry about the cheese wheel coming to _life_ or something," she nervously laugh. ‘’ _Hmm_...I wonder how _you_ would look as a chicken...’’

‘‘Very funny,’’ the male in question say as they go back to the sleeping quarters.

‘‘Yoake is not on Skooma or catnip, is she? _Hey_ , this one _had_ water to wash with!’’ Mi'rasj says as he spots and points at Yoake's water skin.  
‘‘But then _why_ did she ask for oral assistance earlier in the mine?’’

He frowns and tilt his head as he sits down on his bedroll, he eagerly awaits Yoake's reply.

‘‘I'm not _on anything_... unless sarcasm counts. And this water is for _drinking_ , not _washing_. I only have this one container and _one fill_ , and I don't want to waste it,’’ looking sharply at Mi'rasj as what he said actually registers.

‘‘Hey, one didn't ask for "oral assistance"! This one asked if you knew a way to get the blood off, which I am still covered in by the way!’’ She wacks the staff on Mi'rasj's head.

‘‘ _Omfh_!’’ Mi'rasj rubs his head and hold his palms up towards Yoake, as if pleading.

‘‘ _Alright_! Maybe Yoake did not _ask_ , but she _hinted_ at the _possibility_ if Mi'rasj was _well behaved_!’’ He folds his hands, and continue: ‘‘This Khajiit may be the most well behaved Khajiit in all of Skyrim! Granted, there are only around _ten_ others, but _still_! And Mir _do_ know of a way to get the blood off this one. Carefully and delicate... he thinks one already knows the idea.’’

Yoake looks at the male across from her, eyebrow raising slowly. ‘‘... one think you and I have different definitions of what it means to be well behaved...’’ She crawls into her bedroll, closing one clawed hand around the hilt of the Blade of Woe.

‘‘Now go to sleep, kitty cat... besides, I'm pretty sure Briarheart blood is poisonous if you ingest it.’’

‘‘Heh. We cannot be similar in _all_ aspects, Yoake. But yes, Briarheart blood would be bad for one... fortunately, Mir possesses a remedy, made from a Briar heart seed, dust from a vampire, and feathers from a hawk. He is not completely useless in alchemy.’’

The tired feline open her eyes to look at the he-cat.

‘‘I know you're not _totally_ useless... but you are _not_ licking me tonight, so quit flirting and go to sleep, kitten.’’ Yoake close her eyes, and snuggle deeper into the pelts, the Blade still in her grasp.

Mi'rasj sighs, but has a sentimental look on his face.

‘‘Very well. If uninterrupted sleep is what this one wants, then Mir will comply. Good night, minx. May this one dream of warm sands.’’  
After delivering his comforts, Mi'rasj crawls into his own bedroll.

 ‘‘Warm sands and deep jungles in your dreams as well, Mir,’’ Yoake replies. She falls asleep with a smile on her lips and Mi'rasj's soft breathing in her ears. That night her dreams carry her to the far-away lands of Elsweyr, to laughter and dancing, and her father's gentle smile, filling her with a warm, happy feeling in her heart when she wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta'agra Dictonary:
> 
> Trevan = Friend  
> Ahzirr Traajijazeri = We justly take by force (direct translation: our take (by force))  
> Pihalko'i = Cheesy (as in weird, unsuiting, improper, unconvincing)  
> Wafa = Idiot (dumb, moronic, idiotic)
> 
> All Ta'agra words are found on http://www.taagra.com/
> 
> No chickens were harmed in the making of this chapter.
> 
> P.S.: Burlap is a coarse canvas woven from jute, hemp, or a similar fibre, used especially for making sacks.  
> (Imagine a sack for potatoes... that's what Mir's pants are made of)
> 
> I pictured Mir's trousers to be identical to "Tattered Pants" in Oblivion, that I reckon are made from the same material as "sack cloth pants". "Sack cloth" is a vague and ambiguous word in my opinion, so I used the word burlap, which is the same thing, and explained the word here, so you will (hopefully) have an idea of what his pants look like.  
> Here is the design:  
> https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/elderscrolls/images/4/4f/Khafiz.png/revision/latest?cb=20130414074450


	4. Sugar-tail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two Khajiit wake up the following morning, and start things off slowly, with a bit of morning "exercise".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is... probably the shortest chapter we will ever have.

The next morning, Yoake wakes up curled into a ball under the fur of the bedroll, only the tip of her ears poking out, to the sounds of Mi'rasj trying to quietly put on his armour and gear. Shifting enough for her to see without being seen, she covertly watches the slender male.

Mi'rasj is sitting with his back towards the spying female, not knowing he is being watched. He is bending to put on his Forsworn boots. When they are fastened securely, he stands up and stretches upwards, curling his tail, clenching his muscular calves and thighs, leaning his back and torso slightly backwards as he flattens his ears and raises his arms. Yoake blushes at the sight of Mi'rasj's body on display for her like this. Wearing only boots and loincloth, he is certainly a sight to behold, and a fine example of his species. When he bends over to pick up his armour, Yoake get a sublime view of his posterior, and feel a jolt of energy course through her that made her blush and feel uneasy and peculiar. Mi'rasj lifts his Saviour's Hide over his head, and slides it over himself. When his behind is covered, Yoake's emotions begins to fade, much to her relief. When the male finishes putting on his gauntlets, Yoake suspects he will try to wake her up, so she shifts silently in her bedroll, into a position she hopes is convincing enough to fool him into thinking she's asleep.

Mi'rasj, having geared up, looks over at his Khajiit companion. Her back is towards him, and her breath is deep and steady. He smiles and strolls over to her side.

‘’ _Yoake_?’’ he whispers. No response.

‘’Yoake, it is _time to get up_ ,’’ he says a little louder, tapping her shoulder with a claw. Nothing. Meanwhile, Yoake is smiling heartily, finding it increasingly difficult to resist the urge to laugh or startle him. She hear Mi'rasj sigh, then she feel his tail tickling her nose! This makes her sneeze shortly after, and she use this event to pretend to wake up. Yoake responds by blowing his tail away from her face

‘’ _Pff_! ...morning, Mir...’’

‘’Good morning, moonbeam!’’ Mi'rasj says, referencing Yoake's white hair. ‘’...it is time for us to move, we were lucky not to get our throats cut in the night...’’

‘’Mmhmm...yes, yes...’’

Mi'rasj slumps down on a nearby chair to rummage through his haversack for breakfast. Yoake slowly sits up, and rubs her eyes sleepily, yawning to hide her grin. Seemingly unknowing to the male's potential gaze, Yoake rises and give a long feline stretch that go from the tip of her tail to her outreached claws extended over her head. Opening her deep blue eyes, she is greeted with the sight of a staring male who seem a little hot under his collar. She struggles hard to keep the innocent sleepy expression on her face.

Feeling an urge to both tease and repay him for his "show", Yoake turns around to put on her shrouded armour, bending over to give Mi'rasj an astounding view of her leather-clad behind as she slowly slides on the signature clothing of the Dark Brotherhood. The ears of the teasing she-cat pick up that all movement from Mi'rasj have stopped. ‘’ _Transfixed, huh_ ,’’ she thinks. Taking her time with every strap and buckle on each leg, it takes at least a couple of minutes before she is done with them. Not before hoisting the form-fitting black armour over her hips and securing it tightly, does she turn around and reach for the shrouded jacket. Peeking at Mi'rasj with her peripheral vision as she grabs the rest of the armour, she sees that he is extremely uncomfortable, and leaning forwards, forearms on his knees.

‘’ _That has to be a two-fold action: to bring his eyes closer to her_ " _performance_ ", _and to hide what is surely a protrusion in his nether region. Hihihi..._ ’’

Calmly equipping her jacket, Yoake takes a closer look at her companion's face. An amusing mix of embarrassment, excitement and annoyance are all too present!

‘’Are you quite alright? You look a little warm, _sugar-tail_. I hope you don't have a fever...’’

Startled, Mi’rasj focuses, and quickly resumes his search through his haversack. His hand emerges clutching the roasted leg of a chicken.

‘’Heh, eh… Mir is _fine_! _Excellent_ even! Yes… he feels... _invigorated_ , yes. Blood rushing... _everywhere_!’’ He waves the chicken leg around to amplify his statements. He would be more convincing had his voice been less nervous and less high pitched. Mi'rasj still looks mighty embarrassed as his eyes drop to the floor in the silence that follows, hoping that the stone and dirt would swirl together to form a portal to Oblivion.

‘’ _Oufh... anywhere but here_ ,’’ he thinks to himself.


	5. Conflict and Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hint of true colours, and some backstory.
> 
> Moderate violence in this chapter, namely:  
> -Arrows in people  
> -Someone will have their legs crushed  
> -Someone will be impaled  
> -Blood
> 
> (P.S. from VikingWalker, co-author, 15th of May, '18:  
> Flashback has been updated! It is now much more immersive. There are also easter eggs)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mi'rasj's clothing before he obtained Savior's Hide and his Forsworn boots and gauntlets in Skyrim, were Oblivion/Cyrodilic clothing. I imagine he obtained his clothes in Riverhold, Elsweyr, and wore it for years before he left. Since Riverhold is quite close to Cyrodiil's border, intermingling of clothing and/or fashion is feasable. Besides, the design of what he wears is simple and functional, and ''timeless classics'', allowing these clothes to coexist in both places and it can be a case of convergent design.  
> This is my humble opinion, so feel free to comment if you'd like to say anything on the matter :)
> 
> Mir's shoes:  
> https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/elderscrolls/images/f/f2/Quilted_Shoes.png/revision/latest?cb=20150618025910
> 
> Mir's pants, darker than pictured here:  
> https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/elderscrolls/images/4/4f/Khafiz.png/revision/latest?cb=20130414074450
> 
> Mir's tunic, minus the neck-tightening rope:  
> https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/elderscrolls/images/8/8c/JorckTheOutcast.png/revision/latest?cb=20130219222802

Yoake arc an eyebrow, trying hard, and mostly succeeding, in keeping the smirk off her face.  
‘’Good to hear you have plenty of energy, because we _still_ have most of a mine to clear, and probably many more foes to kill.’’  
Fastening her gauntlets while she talks, the lynx-like female swing her bow over her shoulder, Dawnbreaker already in her belt.  
Looking up in time to catch a red apple thrown from Mi'rasj, she smiles at her partner.

‘’Ready to go and make Forsworn blood splatter _everywhere_?’’

Mi'rasj gnaws away the last piece of flesh off the bone of his chicken leg, and throws it away. He heaves the haversack over his shoulder, and nods with a grin. ‘’Ladies first!’’ he says with a smile as he grabs the strange, three-headed, magical staff they found the evening before.

Continuing through the tunnels leading deeper into the mine, the two cats tread on silent feet, only meeting the resistance of a few frostbite spiders, and a couple of men on their way through the mine, until suddenly a vast cavern open before them: a stalagmite nearly five fathoms high dominating one half of it. Part of the ceiling has collapsed, letting a river enter the cave in a beautiful waterfall gathering in a small lake, that disappears into the rock wall. Near the pond, a Hagraven is holding court with a couple Briarhearts and a few Forsworn.

There is a tunnel leading onwards in the far corner of the cave.

Standing unnoticed in the shadows near the tunnel they entered through, the Khajiit study their enemies.

‘’We need a distraction, or we will have a hard time dealing with both the Hagravens and the Briarhearts at the same time.’’  
Mi'rasj keep his golden eyes on the group as he talks, the stern look of a tried warrior on his face.

In contrast, Yoake's face is calm and cool, without expression at all. The face of one who strike unseen from the dark without guilt or remorse. Unfeeling as the moonlight shadows. Sneaking a look at her face, Mi'rasj is suddenly hit with the fact that the lithe, snarky female by his side is a professional assassin.

‘’How many arrows does Yoake have? Mir has six,’’ he whispers as he slides his haversack off his shoulder and leans the staff against the cave wall.

Unaware of his gaze, Yoake check her quiver and thumb the string of her bow. ‘’I have… fifteen glass and… _lots_ of ebony arrows. They should be sufficient to create some chaos. But I could always sneak up and _bite some ankles_ , if you think _that_ would help.’’

With a grin, the honey-furred female start sneaking along the wall, looking for a good spot to start the mayhem from.

Mi'rasj smile at the joke, marveling at the fact that she can crack a joke anywhere. Studying the stalagmite closer, he notes that for its size, the base is narrow, and if it were to collapse when anyone stood next to it, it would most likely be rather… _unhealthy_. Swinging his tail to catch Yoake's attention, the male mouths overly articulate ''Fus Ro-Dah'', pointing at the heavy stony spire. With a wicked grin, she catches on to his plan.  
Going through the shouts she knows, the she-cat tries to remember which one could lure their enemies to the large structure.  
‘’Make a rune trap’’ she whispers back, barely louder than a breath, trusting that her companion will hear her.

Seeing Yoake going through her mental drawers to find a suitable shout, Mi'rasj twitch his tail again. He whispers ‘’Throw Voice’’ and places a frost rune trap just outside of the visual range of their bloodthirsty foes.

‘’ _Throw Voice, of course. You are an idiot, Yoake di Khaja_!’’ the female think to herself, annoyed look on her face. ‘’Thank you,’’ she mouths back to her shout-knowledgeable partner. Closing her eyes a moment, the female draw a deep breath, letting the shout rise from within.  
Focusing on the rune trap, she releases the power in a breath. "Hey, cheese brain!" a voice calls, alerting the Hagraven and her kin, luring them toward the trap. Yoake ready her bow, prepared to shoot whomever the trap doesn't kill.

Mi'rasj give a short nod. As their foes near the spire, the brown Khajiit crouches as low as he can, priming all the muscles of his powerful legs, and without a sound, jumps high into the air.

Having located the stalagmite's weak-spot beforehand, he uses his lightning-fast reflexes to deliver a powerful kick right where it counts.  
The natural tower cracks at the base, and with a terrifying sound, its massive weight heads straight for the Forsworn group.

Two of them are shattered beneath the stones, and the last Briarheart is unfortunate enough to almost escape, only to have his legs crushed under the weight of the pillar. Two Forsworn and a single Hagraven remain, and they dart frightened away from the stones, and right into the rune trap. The Hagraven and the sword wielding Forsworn are struck and incapacitated, but the remaining Forsworn nocks an arrow, backing further away.

His avoidance proves to be of no use as a dark arrow fly out of the shadows and pierce his throat. Two more arrows swiftly follow, and the frozen Hagraven and Forsworn burst into flame as they are hit. Yoake steps out of the darkness by the wall, gliding soundlessly over the floor. Another arrow fly towards the bird-woman, felling the creature, as the she-cat flick her tail toward the pinned Briarheart, signalling Mi'rasj to put the man out of his misery.  
She goes back to retrieve his haversack and their staff.

Mi'rasj walk over to the trapped man, admiring Yoake's precision with the bow on the way. The man is lying in a pool of his own blood and crying in pain,  as his legs are shattered. It seems his will to fight long is gone, but the Khajiit steps on his arm, just to be certain, and he squats over the trapped Forsworn, putting his furry hand on the man's shoulder.

‘’Do you repent?’’ Mi'rasj asks coldly.

The Forsworn is breathing rapidly, with ragged breath from the intense pain. ‘’Wh-what?’’ he manages to get out.

‘’ _Regret_. Do you _regret_? All the terrorizing, extortion, maiming, and _killing_ you have done?! If you do, Khajiit will make sure you meet the Old Gods you follow, quickly and free of pain!’’

Mi'rasj tighten his hand on the man's shoulder. The Forsworn is shaking violently now, sobbing and clenching his jagged teeth.

‘’ _Yes_! _YES_ , _I regret_! Just make it _s-_ _st-stop_!’’

‘’Khajiit believe you. Take a look to where the waterfall enters from the ceiling. Take a look to the sky, just before you die, it's the last time you will. Remember the stars, and the magical veil dancing across the night sky. Close your eyes now and imagine what joys await you in the next life: the afterlife... can you see them?’’

‘’Ye-yesss...’’

‘’Good.’’

Mi'rasj unsheathes the claws on his middle and index finger, and with a swift and precise cut, the Forsworn's throat is sliced open. The man loses consciousness before a second has passed, and his soul passes into Aetherius. Yoake stands silent by Mi'rasj' side as he rises from the ground, four bloody arrows in her hand and the dead Hagraven behind her. Quietly she brushes her free hand against his.

‘’You gave him a mercy-kill, a swift end... as all who repent deserve. Let's pray he go to his gods.’’

Mi'rasj nods, his face looking stern, but his golden eyes are distant and unfocused, seeing old memories instead of the cave.  
Yoake takes her hand in his and squeeze it, using the warm solidness as an anchor to pull him back to the present. He blinks once.

‘’Yes… let's wash...’’ he says, in a monotone, broken voice. He lets go of her hand without looking at the female beside him, and slowly starts to walk towards the pond.

Yoake sends his back a speculative and worried look as he walks away. ‘’ _I wonder what memories plague his mind_ ,’’ Yoake thinks to herself as she follows the he-cat down to the water, sidestepping the fallen stones.

Unequipping her arms and armour, down to her sleeveless, grey linen tunic, she places her gear and pack where they won't get wet.  
Mi'rasj also takes of his armour and gear, down to his loincloth. He then gestures to the female to wash first as he sits down on the edge of the water in a cross-legged, meditative pose.  
  
Yoake slowly wades out behind him into the small, shallow lake. When she steps under the waterfall on Mi'rasj's right, her tunic instantly get soaked and clings to her form.  
She scrubs her face with her hands to get the blood out of her fur and hair, before leaning her head back, eyes closed against the spray, letting the water wash away the evidence of nearly two days of fighting and carnage.

The he-cat stares at the ripples of the pond in front of him, making sure not to look at the waterfall out of respect for his partner's privacy.  
 Soon he does not see the small waves or the ripples of light reflected onto the walls and ceiling by the sunlight hitting the water.

His mind is thrown into the past, and cause him to see something else: his first mercy-kill that took place that night in Bravil, during a rough storm four years ago.

 

* * *

 

 

 _From what I've been told by caravaneers, mercs, and Skooma-addicts, the rundown city of Bravil close to Elsweyr's eastern border is filled with shacks and houses held up solely by each other and wishful thinking. By Alkosh, this rain-filled storm that came through this evening along with me have probably have torn many of them down! I come to Bravil looking for shelter and food... but it seems I will find nothing but despair here._  
  
_Look at that! A lot of guards, many more than needed, are ''conveniently'' occupied rallying the horses that escaped the corral, when its fence was broken by an uprooted tree a short while ago. None, neither guards or townsfolk, are helping the people that must be trapped in their shacks! It seems they, or the one who issued the order, don't care about the ''lesser'' folk that live there in squalor._  
_That order must have come from guard captain Lerus, another Imperial bigot. Their reputation precedes them, even in Elsweyr. I don't think I've ever heard a praising word about that smoothskin._ _If I see that Lerus, I'll give them a claw to their apathetic cheek! Enough of this lack of compassion. I will do what the guards will not: check for survivors and help them out. Luckily this suspended bridge is still standing... even though this wind makes the trip across a test in balance and agility. That guard outside the gate might direct me to the most neglected buildings..._

I make my way past the stable-house and across the suspended bridge swaying in the wind.  
Had the circumstances been less potentially dire, the trip might have been quite entertaining. What would require Men or Mer to cross the bridge at a snail's pace, would merely be amusing for a Khajiit, as we like to challenge ourselves in feats of acrobatics and deftness.  
  
As I near the guard and raise my hand in a friendly manner, I get a look at them before we are close enough to converse.  
Male, mid forties, with green eyes and brown hair that the guard helmet has pushed down into his eyebrows. All in all, rather nondescript.

\- Greetings, guard!  
  
\- Greetings! You have my ear, citizen.  
  
\- Khajiit is but a traveller seeking refuge for the night, but not before helping anyone out from the houses or shacks that are close to, or have already been brought down by this storm!

\- I am relieved to hear that, wanderer! The buildings at risk are, naturally, where the poorer residents live. You can find them to my left, in the area from the gate to the chapel. I would help you if I could, but guard captain Lerus will see to that any guard who provides assistance, coins, or meals to the poor-folk will only be issued _half_ their wage for the _entire_ next quarter of the year!

\- Understood, but that is revolting! It is... _disheartening_ to hear such bigotry still takes place in Cyrodiil! How can this one _bear_ to live in such an _uncaring_ city? How can the captain get away with this?!

\- Take my word for it, this level of apathy for the poor is greater than in any other city in Cyrodiil. But this is due to Lerus, and the Count that doesn't mind their moral. But it will not be like this forever. When someone new is assigned to the position of captain, things will improve. Both canidates think Lerus' views are both extreme, misplaced, and improper.

\- Do they have any heirs? Will they be missed when they... _retire_?

\- No... not by anyone in _Cyrodiil_ at least. Lerus lost their spouse a long time ago... they have a son, but he's travelling in Valenwood; and he has no interest in becoming the guard captain someday.

\- Good to know. Alright, Khajiit now know where the strained houses are... what about that roof over this one's head for the night?

\- There are are cheap meals and lodging available in the southern part of the city, across the canal, at the Lonely Suitor Lodge. Ten Septims will get you a room for the night.

\- Very well, Khajiit will get to work. Many thanks for the helpfulness, guard!

\- Good luck!

_Pity there is no time to chat, this guard has probably a lot to tell; both useful and useless. Alright, through the gate and to the right... a lot of new, but flimsy shacks and buildings here indeed, some have already collapsed! I will attend those first!_

 

\- _Hello_?! Is anyone inside here?  
  
The voice of a frightened, old man replies.

\- Yes, _hello_?! Please help me! I'm trapped in the corner, over here! I can't get out on my own! I- I don't know how much longer what remains of the roof will hold!

\- Don't move, Khajiit will help!

\- Oh, _thank you_! Divines bless you!

\- Khajiit will wedge his trusty iron dagger in between the planks and beam and use leverage to make these rusted nails come out... there we go... please don't bend, dagger... _hmfh_ , that's one nail. _Two_... okay, can this one push _here_ while Khajiit pull? Good, together we can make the plank snap. One, two, _three_! Good, one more time! One, two, _threeee-omfh_! Yes! Success! Alright, Khajiit will repeat the process over here. _There_ , now the other... okay, _push_ , one, two, _three_! This plank is a _stubborn_ one! _Don't_ give up, we can do it!

\- _Trust me_ , I'm pushing as if my life _depends_ on it! Which it _does_! _Come_ _ooon_! _Aarh_!

I place one of my feet on the wall, then the other, then lock my arms and push with my legs as hard as I can. The plank creaks and gives in, slowly but surely, until it reach the breaking point and snaps, making me rebound. Immediately after getting up, I rush to the opening in the wall.

\- The opening should be big enough now! Lay down on your back and take Khajiit's hand!

The trapped man reaches out his arm, I grab him slightly above his wrist to not cause discomfort, then swiftly pull him out from the unsteady shack and help him up. The old man, a Breton judging by the small point in his ears, gives me a hug with his narrow arms.

\- _Mara bless you_ , Khajiit! I can't repay your kindness with gold or items, I'm terribly sorry! I pawned anything of value long ago... the only things I have is a tankard and a few rags in the ruins...

\- Khajiit will not ask of something in return. Instead, he will actually give this one something. This one will give Breton one hundred Septims, for a week at the Lonely Suitor and some food.

The Breton in rags is shocked as I pull out my pouch and start to count.

\- Y- _you_ _what_?! I... Thank you... I-I-I don't know what to say...

\- Breton can find the words of gratitude later. Now he should go to the lodge and warm up. _Here_. Is this one aware of anyone else that are or may be trapped?

\- Uuh, there is a... Skooma-addicted Orc brute living in _that_ shack, and there is an old Argonian woman in that larger house over _there.._. but I'm not sure where either of them are.

\- Many thanks regardless, old one... may Khajiit know this one's name?

\- Surname Vineben. My ancestors are from Anvil.

\- _Mir_ , from Riverhold. Anvil is a _fine_ port city, he has heard. Lots of ships, lots of shipping. Friendly folk, pretty lighthouse. Anyway, take care, and get some warmth and rest, old one!

\- Thank you again, and good luck!

In that instant, the clouds shift enough to let the pale Secunda shine its moonbeam onto the city in turmoil, making me smile. ‘’ _A good sign_.’’ I look up and meet the gaze of our revered moon. The ray bathes Bravil in dim, white light only for a few seconds before it is enveloped in darkness once more. But it is enough to renew my faith and strength.

\- The _Moons_ are with Khajiit. He _will_ be successful.

\- I hope you're right, this is the worst storm we've had in _decades_! the Breton says with a worried look as he hurries towards the bridge that will take him to the lodge. I wave him goodbye and go to the closest shack, the one with the Orc inhabitant. The wind increases in strength making me have me to lean forward to counterweigh the force, and squint to be able to see.

 

\- _Hello_?! Is anyone inside? _Orc_?!

A booming, hysterical voice roars from within the unsteady shack, along with slurred singing.

‘’ _This one must be out of it_.’’ I go to the front door, knock, and try to open it, but to no avail.

\- Hello? Can Orc open the door? Khajiit fears this shack might come down _very_ _soon_!

\- Hoho-nono, no _furball_ ain't gonna tell _me_ what to do, the Orc shouts, - ...if I wanna dance and sing all night, then _that's_ what I'll _do_!

The Orc is true to his word, and the shack trembles as he dislodges what must be a support pillar! The fragile roof creaks and starts to cave in from the lack of support, urging me to find a way in, _fast_. After a few kicks to the door, I have to give up, there's no way I'll be able to enter from there, must be bolted or barred.

I examine the sides of the shack, its walls are rather sturdy, I won't be able to get in the same way I was able to with the Breton's shack. Meanwhile, the Orc blissfully unaware of his potential demise, singing a strange song loudly and hoarsely.

There is a a simple flap window on the back wall that I might fit through. I take my knife and assault the hinges that are on the outside of the window. The hinges are fasted to the planks with only two short nails on each, so I fortunately manage to break them off quickly. With the hinges loose, I am able to grab the upper part of the flap and rock it rapidly back and forth to brake the lock on the inside. Fortunately the Orc is hazed and doesn't notice the commotion. The flap comes off with a snap, and after I've slid the haversack off my shoulder, I enter through the small window as quickly as I can.

On the floor of the tiny, sparsely furnished shack, now without its main roof support pillar, is a large number of empty Skooma bottles; it appears the small, white, simple bottles used in eastern Elsweyr are used here as well. I snatch a bottle and put it in my belt pouch before I observe the large, dancing Orc who clearly has no idea of the danger he is in. I glance up at the crude roof, and its state is unnerving.

A wrong word, and the situation could end badly, as the strength of an Orc of this size will make short work of a tired Khajiit. But time is of the essence. With the pillar gone and the wind pulling, the roof could come down any second! I make my face look as calm and friendly as I can, and approach the brute.

\- _Heeey_ , friend! Let's go outside and give these snotty imps a show, huh? I ask while laying a hand on the Orc's shoulder.

\- That's a... _great_ idea, furball!

\- _Capital_!

\- The _Imperial City_!

\- Not what this one meant, but alright, let's leave! Follow Khajiit nice and easy, and a bit more quickly, please... good... this one will unlock the door... _there_. Out we go!

\- Alright, but I'm bringing my friend here! the Orc shouts as he tears the door off its hinges to accommodate the pillar still clutched in his massive hand.

That was all it took for the shack to collapse.

Using my Khajiit reflexes, I push the Orc out in front of me, then dive over the doorstep myself, the roof barely miss my feet and tail. I land with little grace on my belly, getting my burlap trousers and shirt soaked in mud, but I don't care. I can't. Not now.

The drugged Orc still clutches the pillar, and laughs sheepishly, offering me no help to get up. I sigh, push myself up, grab my haversack, then take the hand of the Orc and start to guide him towards the bridge spanning the canal.

 

_Even all this rain isn't going to rinse my clothes to an acceptable level... I'll wash them later._

\- Come on, friend, we need to get inside somewhere warm: The Lonely Suitor.

\- I don't think he would like that...

\- Who, the innkeeper?

\- Nah, this lonely suitor, he will probably resist us...

I thoroughly plant my free hand in my face and sigh.

\- We are not entering a _person_ , oaf, we are going to enter a _lodge_ called _The_ _Lonely Suitor_!

\- Oh! _Heh heh_.

 _Gods, this bridge seems endless. We're so far away from the last shack and the last person that may need help._  
  
\- This one laments to inform that Orc cannot take his... stiff-legged companion inside.  
  
\- Eh, she's giving me a hard look, anyways, _heh_.

The Orc then hurls the pillar over the railing, it lands with a splash in the muddy water.

\- Is there a fee for littering or causing driftwood? I ask the brute, who seems to be thinking more clearly now.

\- Nah, nobody cares what's in the water, be it large or small... no one drinks from it or bathes there anymore.

As we finally cross the canal, the lodge is on the immediate right, a large, three-storey building. Its carved sign indicating overnight stay sways intensely in the strong gusts that still sweep through Bravil.

 

As I open the door and guide the Orc inside, a wave of warmth washes over me, inviting me to stay a while near the crackling fire, and share tales with Vineben that is enjoying a warm meal. Alas, I can't rest now. I sit the Orc down on a stool and approach the innkeeper, a middle-aged Redguard woman.

\- Greetings, milady! The house of this Orc has been destroyed by the storm, is there room for him here for a week or so?

\- There is, but are you the Khajiit that saved Vineben here?  
  
\- The same.

\- That's very decent of you, helping these poor fellas out like that!

\- This one just... did what was needed.

\- I won't charge the homeless anything for their stay here, that would be wrong... which means you can have most of your Septims back if you want.

\- No, that's alright... Khajiit will let them keep what he gave them... more food and essentials when the going gets tough... alright, Orc, here are _your_ Septims, keep them, I utter to the Orc as I sit down on a stool beside him and hand him some gold.

\- But listen: does Orc  _want_ to quit Skooma?  
  
\- I _..._ _do_. I _really_ wanna quit... Skooma's bad for me, I know. I've tried to stop... _so_ many times, but I _always fail_.  
  
\- One _can_ defeat Skooma addicition. But it cannot be done by spell or potion... it's done with your mind, as there is no miracle cure. Can Orc read?  
  
\- Yeah, that I can.  
With that, I reach my hand into my haversack and rummage around for something I think may be able to help him.

\- Good, theeen... _this_ book is a gift, I say as I pull out ''Confessions of a Dunmer Skooma Eater''. - ...this explains the path to purification better than Khajiit can... even if he _could_ explain as good, there isn't time.

\- Uuuh, okay, thanks. But I always manage to get my fix within or so... usually by degrading, vile things... 'cause I just _can't_ stand the withdrawal, it's _so_... _horrible_. Do I have to go through _weeks_ or _months_ of that before I'll no longer feel the pull?

\- Khajiit know of the theoretical _mental_ work that needs to be done, not the _physical,_ as he has never been addicted to Skooma himself. But he has faith in you! And so does Malacath!

\- I'll... I'll do my best.  
  
\- It is said that ''no one bests an Orc,'' _prove it_!

\- I will! By _Malacath_ , I will!

\- Glad to hear it, I say as I reach out and squeeze his shoulder in a supporting manner, - good luck, friend! Now, Khajiit has to go, he still has people to attend to.  
  
\- Stendarr be with you!

With that I get up and leave the lodge. Wind and rain still tears at Bravil and its people. I sprint across the bridge as fast as I can. Halfway across, everything lights up for a split-second as a streak of lightning carve its way through the sky above. It startled me, and I stop and grab the rope of the crude railing to prepare for the thunder that comes almost immediately after.

When the thunder hits, it vibrates my chest and send shivers down my spine, filling me with instinctual dread. Most Khajiit react to thunder this way, the low rumbling is easily picked up by Khajiit ears, and it reminds us of the threatening growl of a hostile Khajiit ready to pounce...  
  
I regain my composure a few seconds after the thunder have faded, and run the remaining distance to the the last shack, or rather, house, in danger, the one closest to the chapel of Mara. The house is the largest around here, around three fathoms tall with two storeys judging from the higher, second row of windows. The walls are intact for now, but the roof has collapsed down into the structure.

\- _Hello?! Argonian?_ Is anyone in need of help?!

Nothing. I try to open the door, that actually opens inwards, but it is blocked by what must be the roof and second storey. I encircle the shack several times while shouting periodically, listening for any reply strong enough to be heard over the wind. But no one answer.  
  
‘’ _Has the Argonian gotten out? Is she even in the city? I don't know... ziss, I can't know._ ’’

Disheartened, I turn around and start to walk slowly back towards the bridge and the lodge.

\- _Waaiit_...

 _Hold on! Did I hear someone? I might have._  
I stop, turn around towards the house, close my eyes, and concentrate.  
The wind and crash of raindrops around me makes it hard to hear much else.  
A flash. A whimper. Then the thunder strikes, and the whimper is drowned in the ear-splitting growl that soar through the sky. But I _had_ heard it!  
I turn on my heel and sprint back to the house.

\- Khajiit know someone is inside! He will find a way in! _Somehow..._

I try to to ram my shoulder into the door. I then try to kick the door in, which proves useless. I give up entering through the door, and since I checked the sturdy and bolted windows earlier, the only way in is through where the roof once was. I throw off my haversack and muddy leather boots, extend all my claws, and start to scale the creaking wooden wall.

_Ooohblivion, my full body weight concentrated on these ten small claws is cussing agonising! And the wind and rain assaulting me isn't helping._

I use all the power in my muscles not to fall, and the pain as motivation as I climb closer and closer to the edge of the wall. A gust make my claws feel as if they are going to have their tendons snap and get torn out of their sockets, but I manage to hang on. I groan and clench my teeth, focusing on the final stretch to distract myself from the numbness and pain in my hands and feet.

I can't help but to emit a sigh of triumph and relief when my hand reaches over the edge of the wall. I hold my breath as I pull myself up; my arm muscles shake violently as if I'm having a seizure. I seat myself astride on top of the wall, gripping the planks with my claws, and peer down into the building.

The roof has fallen almost straight down and completely removed the second floor, pushing it into the ground floor where I see a bloody, grey figure in between a large amount of rubble and chunks of wood. I raise my voice so it can be heard over the fierce weather.

\- _Argonian_! _This one will help_! _Calm yourself_!

The figure, who I presume to be the Argonian woman, does not reply.

I carefully lower myself down into the shack using the windowsills, taking care not to step on any beams, as I do not know their sturdiness. When I reach what would have been the floor of the second storey, I aim for the part of the woman's bed that is not obscured by debris, and jump down. I hit the the bed and crouch down, getting the bearings of the interior as well as my breath and stamina back. It is actually fairly dry here, as the rain comes in such an angle that it does not reach the floor. But what I see on it is gruesome and heart-wrenching _._

The old, grey-scaled and hornless female Argonian is clad in a simple, brown linen dress, that is now more red than brown, as she is lying in a pool of her own blood, impaled through her abdomen by a dislodged roof beam. To my surprise she is still conscious. But her frail, limp figure is trembling. She has completely given up, and is sobbing, clearly in great pain.

When I see the state she is in, I can tell she will never make it to sunrise.  
I get down from the bed, and slowly walk towards the Argonian. To get as close as the situation requires, I have to step in her flowing blood.  
The sensation of the lukewarm blood under my sole and between my toes is sickening, but there is no way to avoid it. I crouch next to her and position my tail over my right thigh to keep it out of the pool of blood.

 

\- _Dear_ , I tell the woman, and find my voice shaky.

-...Khajiit doubt Saxhleel will live for long. Too much blood has been lost, and _this_... _problem_ , complicates things, I say with a hand on her shoulder and a gesture at the beam.

The woman sighs and winces, and tilts her head to look in my general direction. Her irises are completely white: she's blind. Her voice is strained and weak when she murmurs.

\- It's alright... my dear. I've lived a long... and eventful life. The things... I saw... before I... lost my sight... the stories... I could tell you... _hoh_... they would... make the hairs... on your neck... stand out... _hah hah_...

\- M-Mi'rasj believes that. He... he would have _loved_ to hear your stories... _all_ of them!

The thought of all her stories dying with her bring tears to my eyes. The woman draws her breath with a wheeze, something that clearly cause her pain. She closes her eyes.

\- Oh, such a... lovely name, dearie... ah, I may not be... able to tell them... but _you_ ... can _read_ them. By my bed... in the night table... is my old journal. Go take it... it's yours.

I rapidly nod, and hurry back to the bed. The small table is under a heap of planks that I hurl away as fast as I can.

\- Persevere, Saxhleel! Stay alive just a _little_ longer!  
  
\- So kind and... polite of you... to... call me that...

  
I finally uncover the drawer and throw it open. Inside is indeed a travel journal bound in brown leather, and some small, personal trinkets I leave alone. I place the journal in my belt pouch and go back to the Argonian. My bloody footprints on the floor are unsettling. The pool of blood around her has begun to congeal. I crouch next to the woman who is still clinging to her life.

\- Mir found the journal, I say as I take her cold, weak hand, - ...he will spread your stories far and wide! Make people remember you! Perhaps they will be published someday! Made into songs, or plays! Wouldn't that be marvellous?

The Argonian's mouth curves in faint smile. When she speaks, her voice is barely a whisper.

\- Hhhh... indeed it would. Be careful... with that. It belonged to a... foremother of mine... Quill-Weave... authoress.

\- _Quill-Weave_?! The same Quill-Weave who wrote ''The Goblin with the Golden Arm '', ''Red Crater'' and ''The Paths of the Doomstones''?!  
  
\- The same.  
  
\- Amazing... believe it or not, part of why Mir left Elsweyr was wanting to see such a stone, to touch one himself... and the colorful and hearty low-lifes in Quill-Weave's books entertained Mir for _years and years_... amazing that he would actually get to meet her _descendant_!  
  
\- Ahh.. heheh... I have touched... most of them... nothing... happened. I didn't get to... try them all.

To my surprise I come up with a plan, an act to soothe her.  
  
\- Does Saxhleel want to have her last moments outside? Feel the rain on her skin?  
  
The Argonian shake her head only slightly. - No... I've had... enough... water.  
  
\- Very well. Alright, Mir will leave this one for only a few moments. He will be back, he swears on the Moons.

 

I get up from the puddle of blood and make my way to the front door that have I to clear the area around in order to get out of. I glance back at the woman every now and then to make sure she is still breathing. Once the door can be pulled open enough for me to squeeze through, I immediately start searching for an adequately sized stone on the rough gravel road. The wind has calmed somewhat, but the rain is still pouring.  
  
After a short but frantic search I notice the point of a stone emerging from the mud; it has been uncovered by all this rain. I pinch the stone and wiggle it while I pull upwards. My arm jolts up as it comes loose, and to my relief, the size and shape of the stone is ideal: slightly longer than the width of my hand, and about two thumb-widths broad. Rather smooth surface.  
  
Stone in hand, I run back inside and place it in the hand of the Argonian who is now barely breathing. She has a grimace of pain.  
  
\- M-M-Mi'rasj? I'm... _so_... _cold_.  
  
\- Mir is here. You're not alone, dear. Can this one close her hand?  
  
\- N-no... not _really_...  
  
I place the newfound stone in her hand, and slowly close her hand for her, with my free hand on her shoulder.  
  
\- There, _good_! That in your hand is a stone. A _very_ special one! A _new Doomstone_ : the _Nirn Stone_! Oh! Mir sees now that Saxhleel has touched it, the breath of Nirn will carry her soul to the Hist! _Marvellous!_

\- Oooh... oh, how nice... _arh_! ...Mir?

\- Yes?  
  
\- This is becoming... _too much_ to bear. Can you please... start my... final journey?  
  
Those words hit me like a boulder.  
  
\- Y-you... want Mir... to... to send you to... th-the Hist?  
  
\- I do. I... would do it... myself, but... I can't... lift my arms... _ahh_!  
  
\- Mir has... never taken a life like... _this_ before... only a handful, while defending himself... when it was the only way. _This_ is...  
  
\- The right thing... to do... _please_... I _implore_ you... have I not... suffered _enough_?  
  
\- _Of course_ you have! I- I... _hhhh_...  
  
I close my eyes while I lower my head and grit my teeth. Her ragged, pained breathing torments me. After a few seconds, I tighten my grip on the Argonian's shoulder, and attempt to clear my throat, which ends up being a short cough. I raise my head.  
  
\- _Alright_ , I say with resolve. - Mir will grant Saxhleel's last wish... is she ready?  
  
\- I... have been... for a while...  
  
The blind Argonian closes her eyes. _Probably to spare me the act of closing them after the... deed_. I make sure the Nirn Stone is still clutched in her hand, then cradle her cheek with my left hand as I unsheathe the claws on the middle and index finger of my right hand, and place it on her throat. Her pulse is faint, and barely noticeable.  
  
\- What is this Argonian's name?  
  
\- N-Naxa...  
  
\- The Hist will welcome you with open arms, Naxa. Farewell.  
  
I clench my teeth as hard as I can, fix my gaze on the pale, gray throat, and slice. As my claws draw over her I close my eyes and keep them shut until I'm sure what little blood remaining in Naxa's body has left her. I cry my eyes with my closed and try think about my situation.  
  
_I cannot leave her here... her body will be crushed and buried when the rest of the building inevitably comes down. I have to get her out_.  
  
I get up and remove even more rubble near the door, allowing it to open inwards fully.  
I then walk back to Naxa's body and ponder how I will move her.  
  
_If by the legs, the arms will go here and there, snagging, undignifying. If over my shoulder, she will be mistaken for living, and it will be difficult to worthily lay her down. I'm too tired to carry her as if she was my bride. I'll drag her by her armpits, then._  
  
After putting the Nirn Stone in my belt pouch, I dislodge the beam from Naxa's abdomen with some effort, nearly slipping in her blood. Once unpinned, I reach down and drag her outside. I place her alongside the waist-high, rickety wooden fence in front of the building, where she will be discovered and brought to the undertaker.  
  
The lightning and rain had stopped during Naxa's final moments. There is only a mild breeze going through the city now, and many of Bravil's inhabitants are outside with torches or lanterns to inspect their homes or shops for any damage the storm might have caused. I don't give a damn anymore. My strength and willpower is depleted. I only feel... _empty_.  
  
To the right from the door, near the chapel, is a large aspen tree, surrounded by monkshood flowers. I grab my drenched haversack, make my way to the tree, put my back to the trunk, and slide down and weep, unashamed, into the small hours.

 

* * *

 

Under the waterfall, Yoake lowers her head, somehow sensing Mi'rasj's troubled memories. Lifting her hands, she watches the water run between her fingers, and with a barely noticeable twitch, she unsheathes her sharp claws. Her eyes trace the razor-sharp tips, a Khajiit is _always_ armed…as she watches, the water turn red and thick, as if all the blood that has been spilled with her claws suddenly re-emerge and trickle slowly over those deadly points, coating her hands. Her thoughts go back to all those who have died by her hand, all because _someone_ wanted them dead.

With a sigh, she shakes off the memories. She had no delusions of what she was. She was an _assassin_ … a professional killer, and a _damn_ good one at that. Given a contract she asked no questions, she needed only know who and where...  _how_  she always devised on the spot, after shadowing her mark for some time.

But not _why_ ,  _never_  why…

In the peace and silence of the night, the faces of her victims often returned, and she often wondered how many of them deserved to die.

Looking up, she observes Mi'rasj's brown back, with its black markings, sitting on the edge of the water. He is breathing slowly and steadily.  
A bitter smile curl her lips for a moment, ‘’He is _far_ better than me...’’ she thinks as she walks toward him, sinking to the ground by his side.

Mi'rasj senses Yoake's presence. His tail find hers. The he-cat sighs. ‘’Mi'rasj had a long think about the contents of his life. Much death. Little joy. Although he may not show it, this cat is weak. He worries he might go astray from the noble path he follows... But Mi'rasj is happy Yoake is this flea-bag's guiding light and tether.’’

Yoake give a pained smile in return, and leans slightly against his shoulder, and runs a hand through his hair.  
‘’Hmm... I don't see any fleas... and you are stronger than you think, Mir, you're capable of giving mercy...’’

The female look down in her lap, while instinctively drooping her ears from the sadness she feels within. Her white hair drops, and hide her muzzle as she continues: ‘’... but _I am not_ the one you should follow if you want to stay on the noble path... _that_ path has long since been denied to me, for a murderer, a killer for hire... doesn't belong among noble fighters...’’

Mi'rasj is quiet for a bit, then he sighs, turning around to face her. His hands lead her flowing white mane behind her ears again, and he puts his palms to her cheeks, tilting her head so that they are face-to-face. Yoake averts his gaze. ‘’Yoake... when Mir was in the Imperial City, he talked to a handful of people with intimate knowledge of the Dark Brotherhood and its nature . They said the Black Sacrament is only valid on those that  _deserve_  to die! As long as Yoake do not kill the innocent, which she has already said she does not, Mir will have no problems with her actions. He swears!’’ For a moment, sapphire meet topaz, before Yoake lowers her gaze again, one of her ears flicks as she snorts.

‘’A poor _beggar_? A _farm-hand_? I have had contracts on _both_. I wonder, what in _Oblivion_ could  _they_  have done to deserve to die by an _assassin's_ hand?! _My_ hand!’’

Mi'rasj takes Yoake's hands, and look upon her sincerely. ‘’Performing the Black Sacrament on an innocent damages the soul beyond all thresholds imaginable. Mi'rasj have heard of this! Take his word for it: they _deserved_ it... they just  _hid_  it! But the _Night Mother_ and _Sithis_...  _they_  know who is guilty!  _They_  see through the façade; to the demon _within_ that deserves to die!’’

Startled, Yoake looks into his eyes. Letting out a long breath, she leans into his touch, lifting one hand to hold his against her chin.

‘’...yes... Yes! You're right, Mir! The Night Mother and Sithis would never let their children kill an innocent via contract! To do so is the way of a simple _mercenary_ , not a _true assassin_...’’

Laughing faintly, the spotted furred female puts her forehead on the male's shoulder. She continues, light at heart: ‘’Maybe it's a good thing I became a thief _as well_... they just steal stuff.’’

Mi'rasj embrace the female in his arms. ‘’Mir is sad and shocked that he had to tell Yoake this… but he is glad she understands now. _Mhm_ , killing innocents will get one kicked out of the Thieves Guild, Mir recalls. But hey, let's not cling too long, serushna will get blood on her beautiful white fur, and she just had a bath. Which reminds Mir, he still needs one.’’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be more from Mir's night in Bravil in a later, unwritten chapter! ;3
> 
> Ta'agra Dictionary:
> 
> Yoake di Khaja = Yoake of the Sands  
> Tonshe = Thanks  
> Saxhleel = Jel (the Argonian mother tongue) for ''Argonian'', phonetically very similar to the Ta'agra word for Argonian – Sakhliit,  
> which is how Mir was able to learn it before he left Elsweyr.  
> Serushna = Beautiful
> 
> All Ta'agra words are found on http://www.taagra.com/
> 
> P.S. from VikingWalker: I know many reptilians, often having multiple eyelids, are incapable of having their eyes closed post mortem. Chances are this would also count for Argonians, since they are at the very least partly reptilian, but I determine, in this fanfic at least, that they can have their closed like humans.
> 
> P.P.S. from VikingWalker: how did you like my musings about the Black Sacrament at the end of this chapter?   
> As it appears in-game and lore-wise, to my knowledge at least, the Black Sacrament cam be performed on anyone, innocent or not. While I do awknowledge the harsh cruelty and strictly-business protocol of this form of killing, I did not enjoy being handed the task of killing the seemingly innocent individual, nor the assassination itself.
> 
> So I came up with the scenario of the "façade", to help ease the emotional weight of the assassination, and applied this to Mir's understanding of the Black Sacrament (besides, maybe the handful of people he talked to in the Capital about the Dark Brotherhood lied?). What do you think? Do you agree? Disagree? A bit of both? I would be glad to hear your thoughts on this!


	6. The Cold Waters of Kolskeggr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...and, predictably, things can't go their way forever (because that would be boring).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Light violence in this chapter, namely:  
> -Arrows in people

Yoake straightens from the hug and smile at her companion, her white muzzle a contrast to the golden-brown spotted fur the cover the rest of her slender body. She gives a small laugh and looks down her front, the still wet grey linen of the tunic spotless.

‘’I think my armour needs a rinse as well. But that can wait until you are done with yours.’’

Still smiling, the she-cat pads over to a patch of soft grass where the sun shine through the hole in the cave ceiling high above, laying down on the ground to bask in the warm light as she waits for Mi'rasj to be finished with his bath. Standing up, the male wades towards the sparkling fall of water. The waterline reaches him mid-thigh, just below where the cold would start to make things uncomfortable.

The water is cool and calm, the droplets refreshing against his brown fur, the ripples turning it clean, smooth, silken, and sleek after just a short while. He revels in the cascade for a time, keeping his eyes and ears shut as not to get water in them, and gives himself a thorough wash, the first proper one in a half moon-cycle. But then he starts to _daydream_ …

In the sunlight, Yoake shifts slightly to dislodge a root poking into her back. It has the benefit of improving her view.

 

A cool splash of water snaps Mi'rasj out of his daydream. This one was remarkably… _vivid_ , and left a noticable effect just above the waterline. Looking around to see what caused the splash, his eyes fall on Yoake lying innocently still on her spot of sunlight, and a small, suspicious crater in the dirt by her side, like a rock has been removed.

‘’Finished washing? You have been standing there for _quite_ some time,’’ her voice rings out over the ripples.

‘’Uuh, yes! It just takes some time to get the grit and grime out of Mir's ears!’’

Finishing his wash in a flash, the male wades towards the rocks, not remembering the shore is slick with algae near the water's edge. Losing his footing on the slippery rocks under the surface, the male falls backwards into the water. Few Khajiit like to be fully submerged, and Mi'rasj is no exception, and he flails his limbs about before he gets up in shock, panting and coughing, and covered in algae.

‘’ _What_? What is it?!'' he asks Yoake, who had lifted her head at the noise, and now has a weird expression on her face.

She looks at the Khajiit standing sodding wet in the water, not sure if she should laugh, stare or hide her face.

‘’…that was the most _uncoordinated_ one has _ever_ seen a Khajiit. Also… You seem to have a… _uh_ , pointed… " _problem_."’’

The urge to laugh wins, and Yoake falls back on the ground, she rolls on her side, clutching her stomach as she tears up from laughter.

‘’Hey! This one was distracted by eh… _oh_ … _ehheheh_ , not to worry, this is merely a... _reaction_. Yes! Yes, there must be something in the _water_! Or the _sand_!’’ Mi'rasj splutters as he rinses himself and sits down on a medium sized, round rock, his back towards the female. He senses his problem is diminishing, to the point of minimal embarrassment.

‘’...Mir is starting to feel cold… He would both dry and warm up quicker in the sun, no?’’ he says while peering over his shoulder at the still giggling Khajiit.  
  
Getting her laughter under control, Yoake sits up. ‘’ _Suuure,_ something in _the water_ …’’ Shaking her head with a smile, she rises and walk over to her things. Struggling into the snug leather pants she wore the night before, she picks up the bloody armour of the Brotherhood and brings it to the water's edge. ‘’The sunlight is _all yours_ , Mir.’’

‘’Thanks, serushna. Mir will bask in the sun for a while…’’ Sighing as he gets up from his spot, Mi'rasj makes sure to swish his tail at Yoake's face as he walks past her on his to the sunny patch, made comfortable from Yoake's rest. ‘’This one would not happen to have any food with them?’’ he asks as he lays down on his back on the soft grass.

Yoake looks up from where she's been hunched over the water, scrubbing at the dark cloth and leather of her armour. Her ears flick around to dislodge some errant droplets of water, the white spots on their backside flashing with the movement.

‘’I have some dried meat… and maybe a bit of smoked salmon. Want me to get you some?’’

The lynx-like Khajiit rest her arms on her legs, sitting perfectly balanced on her toes, tail swaying softly behind her as she waits for his answer.

 

Licking his lips at the thought of sweet, juicy, and tender salmon, Mi'rasj rolls over and support himself on his elbows. ‘’ _Mmmmm_ , salmon would taste delicious, this one is sure,’’ he says, opening his golden eyes to observe the perched cat in front of him, and her tail swinging hypnotically.

Nodding, the she-cat walk over to the packs, placing her armour on the rocks to dry, mentally noting she should oil the leather when she gets home. Digging through the bags for food, tail swinging for balance, she finds what she's looking for, and walk over to Mi'rasj, handing him the salmon as she sits beside him.

 

‘’Here you go, there is more if one is still hungry.’’

Bringing the fish meat to his muzzle, Mi'rasj draw in a long breath, savouring the scent of smoked salmon.

‘’Tonshe. We shall see. What will this one eat?'' the he asks, taking a bite out of the small steak, enjoying each chew of his strong feline jaw.

Chewing happily on a strip of meat herself, purr in her throat, Yoake rips of a piece and swallow before answering. ‘’Salted and dried sheep meat, there is nothing better.’’

The fish-juice drips down from the filet, down Mi'rasj' forearms and chin, as well as down on his bare chest. He ignores the flow, focusing solely on one of the flavours he enjoys the most in the world. Looking up from her own meal, Yoake rolled her eyes affectionately at her partner's mess. ‘’You are going to need another bath, trevan.’’

The hungry male's head drops to observe the mess he has made of himself. Shrugging his shoulders, he licks the fat from his fingers. ‘’Is that so? One thinks if he smelled of salmon, sabre cats would come for him. Their pelts and fangs make good coin on the marked.’’

‘’That they do, this one might just get _chewed on_ in the process. And I think I'll like you better in _one piece_ and not in _several_ sabre cat _bellies_.’’

 

Yoake grin at Mi'rasj, her blue eyes twinkling with humour. Suddenly her ears twitch and catch a distant sound, and her head whips around, all traces of laughter gone. ‘’…Do you know what I just realised?’’

Mi'rasj is busy licking the fish juice from his fur, and answer before really hearing the question.

‘’Mir will be sure to keep his tail and the rest of his appendages close…’’ His head snaps up, eyes and ears alert and nose sniffing the air as he finally takes note of what the female asked. ‘’ _What_?!’’

Beside him, Yoake is looking at him with a deceptively calm look on her face.

‘’We are in the middle of a mine filled with enemies, we are out of armour and our weapons are out of reach… in other words…   
_AHZIIR VARA WAFIIT_!’’

 

Scrambling to her feet, the spotted feline dive for her arms and armour as fast as her muscles can carry her across the floor as the sound of distant footsteps that echo through the cave become louder. It takes the male a second to process Yoake's frantic shout, but when he does, he run for his own weapons and armour as well.

‘’By _Alkosh_ , this one is right!’’ He hurriedly slides on Saviour's Hide, and shove his boots and gauntlets into his haversack which he then slings over his shoulder.‘’...Kolskeggr does not lack in excitement! Does Yoake know where they are coming from?’’ Readying his Imperial bow and quiver with iron arrows, the Khajiit look to his partner.

Said female has already dived down beside her own pack, trying to fasten her armour and put her things in the sack at the same time, her Blade of Woe between her teeth and Dawnbreaker already hanging askew at her side. Flicking a look in Mi'rasj's direction, their eyes meet for a moment. ‘’ _Raj kalor_.’’

While emitting a couple of Ta'agra profanities, the he-cat shoves his bow, quiver, and sword into his haversack as well, and cast his golden eyes around the cavern, looking for a way out.

‘’ _Fantastic_ … this one knows, Ahzirr Traajijazeri says that in situations like this, honour is _madness_!’’

His gaze fall on the river, still rushing past them and into the hole in the cave wall. ‘’How long can Yoake hold her breath? We could dash for the underground river, and pray to the Moons it leads to the main river outside. We have to leave the staff, though!’’

Throwing her bow and pack on her back, the feline female run for the river. ‘’Long enough! Good idea, let's do that! _Here_!’’

 

Yoake throws a potion of waterbreathing to the male running after her, chugging one herself as she dives into the river, swimming as fast as she can toward the point where the water disappears into the wall. Mi'rasj catches the small white phial mid-air, and run towards the rock he had been sitting on not long ago. He primes the muscles is his legs, and jumps. He lands on the rock and use it to propel himself further, leaping an impressive distance both upwards and onwards. While airborne, he uses his Khajiit reflexes to uncork the vial and drink its contents. He coughs from the unpleasant taste that reminds him of rancid mudcrab, then he hits the water not far behind Yoake, nearly slashing her tail as he cuts through the water with his paws.

Trusting the potion to work its magic at a moment's notice, he dives under the surface to increase his speed. He struggles to keep his eyes open against the force of the water around him, barely managing to keep the white tip of Yoake's tail in his view. Around him he hears a series of small splashes. Arrows. The lethal, two-pronged arrows of the Forsworn also hit the cavern wall in front and above the fleeing Khajiit, and fall into the stream. Distantly, Mi'rasj feel a piercing pain somewhere in his behind, a few arrows have found their mark, or have been carried by the current into his flesh. The speed of the river current increase as it disappears underground, sucking the cats with it. There is no turning back now, there is only one way forward, and all they can do is pray the water will carry them outside before they run out of air.

The current is strong, and drag the two along quickly enough that trying to swim was a lost cause. All they could do was try to avoid the rocks and walls of the tunnel, that even the Khajiit struggled to see in the pitch-black darkness. Neither of them had thought about casting candlelight. Yoake didn't know how far they had been dragged, but she could feel the potion losing effect, her lungs trying harder and harder to convince her that gasping for breath would be a good idea, even if her brain knew doing so would mean the end. Exhausted from fighting the current's desire to bang her against every wall, Yoake is unable to evade a jutting rock in her path, and slams into it at high speed… she catches a glimpse of light at the end of the tunnel before everything fade to black.

Mi'rasj drank the potion later than Yoake, so he still had a few precious seconds of air left when he sees his companion hit a protruding rock head first, the same stone almost hits him as well. He barely manages to grab the furry feline by her tail to stop her from being carried off by the water, while the light of the outside afternoon grows closer rapidly.

Reaching the opening, the new, stronger current pulls them towards the left, and the thundering sound of a lengthy, and probably lethal waterfall. Clenching his jaw against the pain of the arrowheads digging into his flesh, the male lean backwards. With Yoake's tail still in hand, he uses every ounce of strength in his body to move them towards the shore that should be there.

Mi'rasj's head breaks the waterline, and he desperately gasps for air, that burns as if his lungs have forgotten their purpose. Seeing the frothing edge of the massive waterfall, he doubles his efforts. Mara the Mother Cat herself must have been watching over him, because his free hand finds a solid tree root hanging over the river. Straining every fibre in his body, he locks his shoulder, arm and hand as he looks around in panic. Yoake's head is still underwater.

Ten fathoms away there is a small, sandy beach. With a few strong drags and quick grabs, the male get the she-cat's head above the surface. She is _far_ too still in his arms. Letting go of the root, Mi'rasj drifts on his back, kicking with his legs to guide them to the shore. When he feel the coarse sand rubbing against his shoulders, he turns and drag Yoake up the shore to relative safety.

The he-cat then collapses, panting, trying to regain his composure for a few seconds. He stretches his hand over Yoake's mouth. Mi'rasj feels a rush of new energy as he notices she is not breathing. He suddenly starts cry uncontrollably. Quickly moving his fingers to the side of her throat, he gasps as he feel a weak pulse. All is not lost yet!

Something deep within Mi'rasj awoke then. A distant memory told him exactly what to do.

Hurriedly changing his stance from almost lying to as if he was going to propose, he throws away Yoake's pack and bow and bends her back over his thigh, torso facing outwards, head downwards, to make sure her air duct and esophagus is diagonal. Sure enough, a second later, horrifying amounts of water pours out of her mouth. When the stream is reduced to a trickle, Mi'rasj puts the female down, draws a deep breath, closes his lips around hers, and slowly blows air into her. He presses his hand down on her stomach to confirm that the air is going to her lungs. Barely any air is received before a new torrent sprays out, and he repeats the procedure, each time getting more air into her, and less water out of her. The pain from the arrows are forgotten as he tries to blow life back into the woman who's well-being has quickly become connected to his own happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta'agra Dictionary:
> 
> Serushna = Beautiful  
> Tonshe = Thanks  
> Trevan = Friend  
> Ahziir vara wafiit = We are idiots  
> Raj kalor = Everywhere
> 
> All Ta'agra words are found on http://www.taagra.com/


	7. Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Northern: Sorry about the delay in posting. Apparently being awake for...{insert deeply thoughtful face]..think it was 38 hours... make me a bit forgetful...and a tad loony.

With a gurgling gasp, Yoake's eyes open in a heartbeat, panicking. She rolls over to her side as she coughs and regurgitates what feels like an entire river. With ragged breath, she collapses on the sand as her lungs strain themselves to give her enough air.

‘’Hahh, by the _Moons_ , the _Mane_ , and the _Mother Cat_!! _Jer live_!!’’

Mi'rasj' leans back on onto his side, his tears of distress and anguish have become tears of utter joy and relief.

Yoake looks at the he-cat's euphoric face. ‘’...we made it... hhhh... let's never do that again," she says as she lifts her weak arm to cup his jaw, and stroke a thumb over is wet, furry cheek. "Thank you, Mir... for saving me.’’

Mi'rasj puts his hand on the back of hers. It's trembling, but feel pleasantly warm.

‘’Hhhh, agreed. Next time we... hhheh... we kill them all. Mir may have saved Yoake, but _her_ potions... saved _us_... so thank _jer_!’’

The she-cat smiles. "Heh... I never thought... it would pay off to... never truly empty out my packs..." The she-cat weave her fingers into his for a moment, then sits up as she notices blood in the sand, coming from somewhere around Mi'rasj's backside.

‘’Mir, you're hurt...’’

Mi'rasj doesn't feel his injuries before Yoake points them out.

‘’Hn. It appears Mir has a couple of arrows in him, yes. But he cannot see or reach them at a good angle. Can this one take a look?’’

‘’Of course," Yoake says, putting a hand on the male's shoulder. "Okay, lay down on your belly... good...’’

Leaning over Mi'rasj she counts two snapped, thumb-length arrow shafts, one just under and beside his tail on the left side, and the other in his right upper thigh.

‘’Well Mir, you have one arrow in your butt... and one in your thigh... they have penetrated quite deep... the only way to remove these is to _cut_ them out...’’

Yoake winces as she sees Mi'rasj' narrow his eyes and wrinkle his nose, the coming procedure does not, understandably, appeal to him. The worry in his eyes is substantial.

‘’Oufh... is Yoake's skill in restorative magic inadequate? Can she carve the arrows out herself? Does she have any Sleep-Sap from the Tree That Sleeps? Mir has heard from Ysolda in Whiterun that it has healing qualities. He is unsure how it will affect a Khajiit, though.’’

Yoake puts a comforting hand on his tense shoulder. She massages it lightly, kneading the muscles. ‘’I can heal... a _little_. One can fix scratches, cuts and on a good day, broken bones with a spell, but cutting into and digging around in your muscles, never mind your _behind_ , in order to remove arrows? That this one not anywhere _near_ qualified for. Even if I _was_ , I don't have any surgical tools with me, and I would _never_ dare to use my Blade of Woe! And I don't have any Sap, it's been ages since I had anything to do with that _that_ stuff. I'm sorry, but when it comes to the Arcane, this one's strength lay in enchanting, not in spells’’

‘’Hhhh... alright, it's alright... eehh..." Mi'rasj scratches his ear. ‘’...the priestesses of Dibella in Markarth are patrons of love and life! Maybe they have healers who can help Mir?!’’’

‘’Hah! The priestesses! I think they can! Markarth is not that far away. But how to get you there... you're obviously not fit to ride...’’

Yoake cross her legs, and absently drag her fingers through Mi'rasj's hair as she thinks, looking at the river. She spies their packs being stuck to a root, the glowing blade of Dawnbreaker is visible in the water, having made a hole through her pack.

‘’Will you be alright while I look for the horses, Mir?’’ she says as she tiredly walks over to the shore to retrieve their packs and her sword.

Mi'rasj rests on his side. ‘’Mir may not be able to sit, but what if he were laying over the back of a horse? Heh, Yoake will not have to look long for _his_ horse...’’

Mi'rasj raises a trembling hand, palm outwards, and focuses on a spot somewhere in front of him. The air shimmers, ripples and with a blue flash and a crack, Arvak stands three fathoms away. Yoake blinks, looks at Arvak, then back at Mi'rasj, then back to the skeletal steed again.

‘’I'm _not_ going to let you lay across _him_! I'm getting Shadowmere. Stay safe, Mir.’’

‘’Eh, fine. This one will stay here, in good company. Sharraali jer!’’

Yoake heads out, ears perked to catch any sounds, be it friendly or hostile. She finds the main road, and puts her fingers to her mouth and whistles a melody. It's so high that it can barely be heard by someone standing next to her, but the tune carries far.

She doesn't have to wait long before the sound of distant thundering hooves is heard, increasing steadily. The impressive, night-black stallion soon emerges between the nearby trees. Yoake lead Shadowmere back to the beach, a lump forming in her throat when she sees all the blood.

‘’Mir? Are you alright?’’

‘’Hhhh... just tired... weak. Help Mir up, please.’’

The worried she-cat grabs Mi'rasj by his armpits, and through great effort, get him on his belly across the comfortable saddle. Yoake use some of her leather strips to secure Saviour's Hide to the saddle. Once Mi'rasj is in no danger of falling off, she instructs Shadowmere to make the trip to Markarth as stable as possible. He keeps the pace at a reasonably paced trot, with Arvak following a short distance behind. At this rate they will reach the City of Stone when a sundial would show around seven in the morning.

Keeping one hand on the dark stallion’s shoulder, Yoake sets of at a looping run that she can keep up for hours. Her sharp eyes scout the landscape ahead, searching each rock, bush and hillside on the road to Markarth for bandits and predators that they don’t have the time to fight, anything that may halt their journey. There is no sound beside the clopping of hooves and the occasional pained moan from Mi’rasj, but the lynx-like Khajiit has trouble hearing them over her own thumping heart.

Sooner than she thought, but far later than she hoped, a familiar hill lead down to a bridge, a guard tower and up to the welcoming grey walls of the City of Stone. Sighing of relief, Yoake slows down as she reaches the last slope before the stables. Calling out to Cedran for help as she nears, the she-cat start releasing the straps holding Mi’rasj to the saddle as soon as Shadowmere stop. ‘’Cedran! Mi’rasj has been shot, can you help me get him to the Temple of Dibella?’’

Having been momentarily startled by the sudden appearance of Markarth’s Khajiit Thane with her red-eyed horse and skeletal horse following them, Cedran gets up from his chair, and jog over to the duo.

‘’Well of course! As long as we take it slow, these old legs o' mine don’t like stairs very much.’’

Moving to Yoake’s side, the stable master help her lower the injured he-cat to from the saddle before slinging the Khajiit's left arm over his shoulder while Yoake takes the right side. Looking over at her human helper, she can’t help but let a small smile show.

‘’You are not _that_ old, Cedran my friend. The wheel of the seasons shall turn many more times before you can no longer keep up with stairs and horses.’’

With Mi’rasj supported between them, the three make their way through the massive metal doors that lead into the city. They are quite the sight, walking over the marketplace, a slender she-cat and an elderly Nord carrying a Khajiit with arrows in his behind between them. The locals murmur among themselves as the group passes, and some of the drunkards from the Silver Blood Inn points and laughs, as if the trail of blood left behind them where Mi’rasj drags his injured leg is a _fun_ thing.

Hearing the drunken laughter, Yoake lift her head despite the tiredness dragging it down, and bare her sharp fangs in a vicious snarl, ears flat against her skull and eyes full of sparks. It stops the laughter rather quickly, and more than a few of the drunken bastards recoil in pure, instinctual fright. Turning her face forward again, the tired Khajiit concentrate on not stumbling over the stairs. Even with help, Mi’rasj is quite a burden. And heavy for a lithe, exhausted cat.

Cedran is obviously tired, having taken as much of Mi’rasj' weight as he could when he saw how worn out Yoake was. His sweaty face is gleaming in the torchlight, but his dark eyes radiate determination. Together they inch up the stairs to the Temple. When they finally reach the entrance, Mi’rasj slips his arm of his helper, and lean shoulder first against the stone wall to give them a chance to catch their breath after carrying him across the city.

Using his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead, smudging his face paint in the process, Cedran straightens and turn toward the stairs.

‘’This is as far as I’ll go. Good luck you two!’’ Yoake shake his hand and reach into her belt pouch for septims, but Cedran stops her before she can do much more than start untying the string holding the pouch closed.

‘’If he lives, I’ll accept your coin. If he doesn’t make it, I’m not going to take your gold for nothing!’’

The she-cat nods in appreciation, and waves him goodbye as the horse-seller starts descending the stairs. Adjusting the arm over her shoulder, she turns toward the temple doors. Using her one free hand, Yoake push open the doors, grateful they are not heavier.

‘’Hello? Priestess? I need a healer; my friend is hurt!’’

Walking further into the temple, struggling under the weight of her by now nearly unconscious companion, the spotted feline sigh in relief as one of the young apprentices hurry over and lead them to a room in the back, where the head healer is already preparing. Helping the male lay down on his belly on a low table, the healer wave Yoake away and inspect the damage. ‘’Thank you…’’ the furry female manages to breathe out as she sinks down on a nearby bench.

The healer gesture one of the priestesses over, and whisper something in her ear. The priestess hurries away, and arrive shortly with a wooden tray with different tools, including sharp bladed knives with long handles and a variety of different tongs. Trusting the woman to know what she is doing, Yoake barely keep her eyes open as the healer slowly but precisely cut the vicious two pronged arrowheads out of the male’s flesh. They have gotten a good thumb-length deep.

Immediately after an arrow is removed, the woman applies a strange, translucent paste that smell like mustard on the bleeding wound. The effect is instant as the blood stop flowing and form a crust. Feeding her patient some herbs, the healer walks over to her tired but visibly worried spectator.

‘’He will recover, the arrows where luckily not poisoned,’’ she says in a soft voice. ‘’...but he will need a lot of liquid. Mead is fine, but milk is preferred. He will also need a lot of rest, at least eight hours a day for a week. As little walking as possible. No running or jumping, either.’’

Looking up from the bench where she was close to nodding off, Yoake give the woman a tired but grateful smile. ‘’Thank you, Milady. I will try to keep him from running and jumping, though this one know not how successful she will be. He can be rather sneaky… and stubborn.’’

Rising to her feet, the usually graceful cat stumble before finding her footing.

‘’How much for your aid? And can he stay here while one get someone to help me carry him home?’’

‘’If your friend here knows what is good for him, he will listen to you. We do not want the damage to get worse. The small sum of eighty septims is all we require for this service. Of course, if you spend a few minutes praying at the altar of Dibella, the Goddess of spirit and love, there will be no sum to pay at all. And he can stay here until you have found a volunteer to help you.’’

Yoake look from the alter to the healer and back again. ‘’Actually… I have something for the Temple. A statue of Dibella, found in a bandit lair. It must have been stolen from some poor, unfortunate soul that were mugged and perhaps even killed by those ungodly savages. This one can think of no other who would give it the respect it deserves, and maybe even find who it belongs to. And I thank you, fair healer, your Temple's kindness is a beacon in these dark times.’’

The soft-spoken healer smile brightly at the news. ‘’Aah, Dibella be praised! Thank you, child, thank you! This more than make up for the effort I have done here! Oh, such a gesture of good cannot go unrewarded! Here, take this enchanted ring. It was donated to us a month ago, but we have little use for it here. The enchantment will make you able to resist hostile magic, may it protect you when you need it the most!’’

Bowing to the healer as courtly as she can without falling over in her exhausted state, Yoake head for the door.

‘’This one thank thee, Milady. The statue is still in my saddlebag, you shall have it upon my return.’’

Walking outside, the slender she-cat begin the seemingly endless journey back to the stables for the statue, smiling when she sees that Cedran have been nice enough to saddle off both Shadowmere and Arvak and put them in their pens, with plenty of food and water. He has even brushed them down! Or at least the one that has fur _to_ brush.

Yoake hangs a small bag of coin, with a thank-you note in it, on a convenient peg. She digs through her saddlebags, once again praising her own laziness when it comes to emptying them, and drag the statue out from under an old hood. Prize in hand, the feline walk back into the city, stopping by her house to collect her housecarl for help.

Heading down the stairs, Argis follow his sworn mistress, statue over shoulder. His steel boots clank loudly against the stone, in contrast to Yoake’s nigh-soundless steps as she swears and curses said stairs to the deepest levels of Oblivion and beyond. Entering the Temple as they come full circle, Argis hand the statue over to a grateful priestess, and walk towards the room where Mi’rasj still lies.

Casting a look on his barely standing Thane, Argis solve the problem of getting Mi’rasj to Vlindrel Hall by simply dragging the Khajiit’s arms over his shoulders and lifting the him onto his back, grabbing under the male’s knees to hold him in place. A tad undignified, and the black-striped male would have protested heavily… had he been awake. Herself, Yoake is far to worn out to do more than shake her head with a sigh and a grin, and follow her housecarl down and up even more stairs.

‘’When he gets well, we are going to Heljarchen Hall… where aren’t so many… _bloody_ … _STAIRS_ ,’’ the feline mutter angrily to herself as she opens the door to her Markarth home, waving Argis toward her bedroom.

‘’Just… put him on my bed… then you are free the rest of the day, evening… night… _whatever_.’’

‘’Yes ma'am,’’ Argis says stoically while he gently puts down Mi'rasj on his belly. The recent exertion appears to have had no discernible effect on the Nord. As he moves towards the main door, he turns and looks back at Yoake with his usable eye.

‘’I'll be at the Silver-Inn. Shout if you need me. I'll lock the door.’’ His Thane is too tired to reply. She just nods at him, and Argis departs.

Yoake relaxes her spine, and limply falls backwards onto the comfy bed. She gazes over at Mi'rasj. He must be dreaming, for his eyelids, nose, and whiskers twitch regularly. Only now does the female notice several small scars on his face from the numerous cuts and scrapes he has received over the years. The She-cat sighs, brings her feet up to her chest, and pulls off her boots, before remove the rest of her shrouded armour as well, throwing it all in a heap in the corner. She leaves her grey tunic and snug leather pants on, and pulls off the Forsworn boots and gauntlets of her companion.

‘’ _Heh_! You know,’’ Yoake says as she undresses the sleeping he-cat, ‘’I think Argis thinks that I sent him away because we're up to " _funny-business_ "... not like _you're_ _unconscious_ and _I'm exhausted_ or anything...’’ throwing his gauntlets and boots in ''his'' corner. Mi'rasj only mumbles indiscernibly. Yoake scratches him behind his ear.

‘’This time I'm afraid it's going to be _you_ that will have to sleep in your armour, kitty-cat! It's both too late and too cumbersome for me to safely unequip it... _hhhfff_...’’

With a worn-out smile, she lays down beside the male, her back towards him. They both lie atop of the blanket, Yoake is just too tired to move her legs anymore.  
Mi'rasj's deep, rhythmic breathing become her lullaby, and she falls asleep, quickly happy that the he-cat next to her appear to be stable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta'agra Dictionary:
> 
> Jer = You  
> Sharraali jer = Luck to you
> 
> All Ta'agra words are found on http://www.taagra.com/


	8. Tension

After an amount of time unknown to him, Mi'rasj awakens on his belly, feeling immensely weak. His wounds are itching, and it takes all his willpower not to scratch them, as Khajiit claws will quickly undo what healing has begun, if given the chance.

He turns his head to find Yoake sleeping next to him, on her side, her back to him: a pleasant sight. Because they both fell asleep atop of the blanket, he has full view of her womanly derrière, accentuated by her snug leather pants.

The he-cat feel a wave of heat vibrate through him. But he is also famished. Since he cannot sit up to get out of the bed, and it is too risky to roll over the side, he slides himself downward slowly but surely toward the end of the bed. He slides down with his face just a hand's length away from Yoake's behind.

That is when he hit his kneecaps on the malevolent chest at the foot of the bed. ‘’ _Meowch! Krosis! Typical..._ ’’

Awoken by the noise of Mi'rasj trying in vain to abstain from commenting on his hurting kneecaps, Yoake open one bleary eye. Her ear picks up Mi’rasj location, to her slight discomfort.

‘’ _What_ , _exactly_ , are you doing?’’

The dumbstruck Khajiit remain where he is, his answer starting in a series of stutters and babbles, making the she-cat smile in a devious but inquisitive manner.

‘’Mir was just on his way to get some food. _Really_.’’

The discomfort in his voice just made it all even better.

Yoake rolls over onto her back, looking down on the male's awkward face. ‘’And this one assume you planned on the food being at floor-level, seeing as that's as high as you can reach right now?’’

‘’Mir thinks he can at least _limp_. Maybe walk. And his arms are fine... he will have no difficulty getting to the food on the top shelves. If he can stand up straight.’’

Yoake sighs, dragging one hand over her face. She then points at Mi'rasj' face: ‘’You... are a stubborn, stubborn cat. Get back in bed, varzeva!’’

 

With an annoyed but caring roll of her blue eyes, the spotted she-cat rise and walk to the kitchen, while Mi'rasj drags himself back to the bed headboard. Yoake gathers different dried and smoked meats, and fish. Grabbing plates, two tankards and some mead, she pads back to the bed, where the he-cat is lying on his belly with a strange look. ‘’What,’’ the she-cat asks him.

‘’Mir does not know if he can, or should, lie on his back. And it will be difficult eating and drinking on one's belly.’’

‘’Hmm... that's a problem, indeed...’’

Yoake's tail twitches thoughtfully as Mi'rasj scratches his temple with a claw. ‘’Ah,’’ he says as he snaps his fingers. ‘’What if Mir was to lay on his side, that would be better, right?’’

‘’Hhhh, that would work. I'm sorry, this one is too tired to think straight.’’

Yoake places the food and drink gently on the bed, and sits back against the headrest. Mi'rasj groans while putting himself on his right side, facing the female feline.

‘’ _Oufh_... it feels like this one has been sleeping for an entire _era_ ,’’ picking up a chicken breast and eyeing it. He then devours it almost whole.  
‘’Mhm! Mir loves breasts,’’ he says slyly, while smiling to himself.

‘’...that's... _good to know_ ,’’ Yoake thinks while sipping from her tankard.‘’You only slept for _half_ an era, so not much have changed. Dragons are still about, the Stormcloaks and the Legion are still fighting, and Markarth still has _too many stairs_.’’

‘’Hhhh... the stairs.... but what _has_ changed, then?’’ the he-cat asks, taking a swig of his mead-filled tankard.

‘’Weeell... you can't run or jump, or do anything strenuous for a week. Also, Yoake owe you her life.’’

‘’If Mir remembers correctly, he saved Yoake from drowning, no? Also... define " _strenuous_ ",’’ Mi'rasj says with a grin and a tilt of his head.

The spotted she-cat takes a bite of a chicken leg and nods.

‘’You did, and this one grateful for that. But I can't let you do something stupid that will hurt you... before you're all healed, at least. And "strenuous" as in take things easy and don't use those muscles too much.’’

Mi'rasj smiles in self-reflection.‘’Stopping Khajiit in doing something stupid will be difficult," he says. ‘’Shall Mir mute his brain or his heart?’’ he says while downing his tankard of mead.

‘’Mute the _brain_ , _that's_ the one giving you ideas,’’ Yoake says, smiling into her cup.

‘’If Mir mutes his _brain_ , he can only follow his _heart_... and... _instincts_...’’, the he-cat replies while shifting slightly in the bed, reaching for a bottle of spiced wine.Yoake shakes her head with a grin.

‘’...mute your _brain_ , _not_ your _logic_! Besides... haven't you managed well so far without thinking? ....And aren't instincts in one's brain?’’ Yoake swish her tail in amusement and hide her even wider grin behind her rabbit leg.

Mi'rasj cocks an eyebrow, then puts on a warm smile. ‘’ _Heheh_ , flea-bag thinks _more_ than Yoake knows! He has a lot of ideas, some of them good... like when... Mir...’’

Yoake reach out to ruffle his many braids, and uses her keen Khajiit eyes to examine the scalp at a distance. She does so in both a serious and affectionate manner, still grinning. ‘’Still no fleas, this one do not understand why you refer to yourself as a flea-bag..."

The he-cat frowns, looking distant, but rather suddenly serious.  
‘’...like when Mir had to save Yoake from drowning. He did not know what to do on instinct. He remembered a distant memory. Had Mir not been there that day to see the accident... then this minx would be... dead. "Flea-bag" is just a phrase conceived by Mir to emphasize his worse side - to use when he is, or put in, a _seemingly_ bad light. Heh... but the _literal_ fleas must all have drowned in that underground river...’’

Yoake's face become serious, curious, as well as concerned, as her hand shifts from ruffling to stroking caringly.‘’What do you mean by " _accident_ "? Do you want to talk about it?’’

Mi'rasj sighs in resignation. When he recounts, his eyes drop down, gazing unfocused on the plates and remains of food between them.

 

‘’Mir knew how to save Yoake because when he was five summers old, he saw an old Khajiit fall in the main river of Riverhold.  
She had stood on one of the bridges, leaning over the wooden railing and watched the small fish in the stream, going about their business. Then the railing suddenly broke under her weight, and she fell in the deep. She could not swim. Mir frantically cried for help, and a huge Cathay-raht dove in and lifted her up to the waiting villagers on the bridge. The Cathay-raht then held her by her legs over the bridge, and all the water came gushing out... this is how Mir knew what to do. He had no bridge, so he had to manage with his thigh.’’

‘’A Cathay-raht? It has been a long time since I last saw a raht-Khajiit. Hearing that make me long from the warm sands of home. All these Nords and Elves all look the same, they are not guided our dear moons, and understand not their importance. The two of us are lucky like that, not many Khajiit know how to swim, we are beings of the dry sands and jungles, after all... and your thigh makes a good bridge!’’ punctuating her remark with a tap on his outermost thigh.

‘’Cathay-raht are an impressive sight. Tall, strong, fast, with jaguar-like features.’’

Mi'rasj starts to slowly pull on his whiskers, a Khajiit gesture indicating deep, philosophical thought. ‘’Yes, neither man, mer, or those wet _lizards_ understand our ways, and the... _impact_ the Moons have. Khajiit do what we do, aided by Them, and let the world be damned. It cannot be coincidence that Mir was there at that exact time, to learn such important knowledge, but not using it until almost twenty years later...’’

The he-cat leaves his whiskers alone. Yoake's fingers and claws are still caressing his scalp, making it tingle. He shudders, making the she-cat giggle softly. Mi'rasj takes a sip of mead, then looks at the female feline at his side. She looks remarkable! Her face is content, her eyes kind. Mi'rasj tries to swallow the lump in his throat. It is still present when he continues.

‘’Mir thinks our luck come from the Moons. Tonight they are both _shrinking_. That means new dangers, conquests... and _Cathay-raht_...’’

Mi'rasj flexes his outer leg, tracing a claw over his tense thigh. ‘’Heh, yes, Mir's legs _are_ sturdy... he did a lot of walking and running, before. These days... Arvak absorb his muscles, haha!’’

The he-cat chuckles, and Yoake laughs with him with a jovial trill, tugging on one of his braids.

‘’But if Arvak _absorb_ your muscles, he would have _more_ of them. But seeing how skinny he is, it's more like he wears them away!’’

‘’Pulls them _out_ _of_ Mir, yes! Hahah...’’

Mi'rasj is now starting to feel the effects of the mead. His head is spinning. He rubs his face groggily and scratches his ear, then looks upon with intrigue the giddy she-cat still caressing him. ‘’How is Yoake feeling? Is her head still hurting from the blow?’’

The spotted she-cat repeatedly taps her finger against his skull, asserting her opinion: ‘’You just _had_ to ask... I was quite content _not_ thinking about my head. But if you _truly_ want to know, it feels a bit like a horde of Orcs are trying to smash their way out... or like a _dragon sat_ on it...’’ Yoake gets a thoughtful look on her face, and she has a distant look in her eyes, in the direction of the sitting room. ‘’You know... dragons around here are more like wyrms, they only have two legs. A _true_ dragon has four...’’

Mi'rasj gets a little annoyed at the alluring female's finger prodding him, but he is too sated to make a fuss about it. He smiles instead.

‘’Heh! For Mir, it feels like five Dwemer Centurions are pounding his head... their hammers will probably echo in his head tomorrow!’’ The striped male tilts his head, looking down on the remains of their meal. ‘’Hmm, this one has heard legends of four-legged dragons, they could only breathe fire... can Aura Whisper help Yoake determine whether it is dragon or wyrm that are tormenting Skyrim?’’

Yoake catches on his somewhat annoyed expression that shows just before it gets replaced by his sated, sheepish grin. She leaves his head alone, and drop her arm, resting it between Mi'rasj's pillow and the side of his neck. Mi'rasj relaxes, and leans his head on her arm. She feels his heavy, steady heartbeat pulsating through her forearm, and the head of his skin spread to her hand, warming the blood in her now tired fingers.

‘’I'm afraid not. Aura Whisper can only tell me _where_ the beast is. And it's not _that_ important, one only need to know that they are big, bad, breathe elements, capable of flight, and want to eat us all! And if indeed there are bigger, four-legged dragons out there... Yoake  _don't_ want to meet _those_ , the wyrms of Skyrim are bad enough, thank you.’’

Mi'rasj nods and rolls gently over on his back, leaning his head over the headrest at a comfortable 90 degrees, groaning meekly in the process. Yoake's arm is now pressed against his neck, resting on his shoulders. Though the gold rings in his braids are initially cold against her skin, they soon warm up. The he-cat's head and torso are well on their way of being absorbed by the fluffy pillows, though Saviour's Hide is dangerously close to poking a hole in the fine, smooth fabrics.

‘’ _Hoohh..._ by _Mara_ , that was good... Mir thanks this one for her pampering... he is not bleeding, is he?’’

The she-cat at his side reluctantly pull her arm free, and reach over, moving all the plates, platters, and tankards she can reach to the floor. With that done, she slides down to lie comfortable on her side, facing Mi'rasj. ‘’ _What_ was good? The food or me stroking your hair? _Hmm_ , you're not bleeding as far as I can see, but your armour is about to destroy my best bed sheet and pillows, you hairball!’’

Mi'rasj has still has the sated, sheepish grin on his content face. His eyes are tired, but warm.

‘’The food was _splendid_ , but the root-massage felt like Mir ingested Skooma-laced Moon Sugar! _Ahhh_ , the phollicles twitched and pulsated in waves... _magnificent,_ ’’ shifting slightly. ‘’If Mir's armour is destroying the bed and its contents, we should get him out of it... but it will be too risky for him to take it off alone. Besides, he is probably too weak, as well.’’

 

Yoake smiles to herself from the feedback, but then she realizes what her companion just said. ‘’...how do you know it's like that rather unsettling combination? And are you saying that I should... _aid you in undressing_...?’’ The stupefied she-cat looks down, and fiddles with a loose thread on her grey tunic, deeply relieved that fur hides blushing, no matter how hot her face feels. Mi'rasj smirks.

‘’Let's just say that when Mir was in his youth... he... _experimented_ quite a bit. How did Yoake think he got so good at alchemy? _Heh_!’’

As he finishes his explanation, Mi'rasj takes a closer look at the female, wanting to determine Yoake's state of mind. Her befuddlement amuses him.  
‘’Oohh, what is this? Yoake is blushing, no? Mh, heh, Mir knows! This one is female, a fine minx, and females work the same regardless of species!’’

Determinately ignoring her blushing, Yoake place her hands behind her head, and stares at the grey roof. ‘’Experimenting with alchemy? How are you still alive and in possession of both your tail and fur? The most dangerous thing _I_ did was see how far up the trees I could climb, and even _that_ was enough to give my father grey fur...’’

The amused he-cat decides to give her some emotional respite, simmer down and regain her composure, by recounting the alchemical feats of his youth.

 

‘’Mir was careful, which is _actually_ possible. Khajiit ingest Moon Sugar in small amounts almost every day, we use it in our food, on it for seasoning, in our desserts... but Mir always craved... more. Heh. A sweet-tooth even among sugarcane-lickers... Mir's mother must have been saturated with crystallized moonlight! So, he made some in his spare time, by acquiring sugarcanes, and drawing Moon Sugar from them. He only made small doses with short effects, which he kept to himself. After trial and error for a few months, he had a decent... stash. This one's parents didn't mind the refining, Moon Sugar is scarce in northern Elsweyr, and having a budding refiner in their hut was a thing to be proud of. Since he could do this almost self-taught, he gave potion-making a try. With this there was risk, so his parents kept their colours because they did not know about _this_ activity. He would only pull out his mortar and pestle when they were out of the hut. Mir never made Skooma, though. He abode the law... for as long as he could.’’

Yoake listens to his account intently, refreshed to hear private stories from another Khajiit, an event that seldom happens. Having gathered herself, she dares to look upon the he-cat's face. The lines of Mi’rasj appealing face have become warm and soft in their features. He cocks his eyebrow, the raising brow inquisitive of, and waiting for, Yoake's reply. The short silence that follows is a little awkward, ushering the she-cat to respond, using her brain, but also, surprising herself, her heart.

‘’Mir used to be a _smart_ kitten, apparently!’’ she says in a taunting tone. ‘’...but true, you can never be too careful with things like that. I once agreed to help a friend with a potion, one think she was trying to make water-breathing mixture _not_ taste like... _ufh_... rancid mudcrab... _that_ ended up with this one seeing everything in green for nearly two days, hihihi!’’ Mi'rasj emits a brief but genuine laughter.

‘’Mir know what the minx is talking about. He would sometimes get strange... _reactions_ from his sampling. Error was indeed a part of the process...’’

The lynx-like Khajiit laugh loudly. Nibbling on her tongue to stop the laughter, she manages to push in a question between the convulses of her throat. ‘’...why... do I get the feeling... Mir's fur got... interesting colours?’’

The he-cat smiles and scratches his ear again, this time in embarrassment.  
‘’Heh. Because that actually happened... _t_ _wice_! First this one's belly hair turned green, and his chest tuft yellow. The other time his tail became blue! Mir never expected to have localized pigment alteration occur... he was _quite_ surprised! Fortune smiled on him, though, and only made the changes last about an hour. But those were one of the most embarrassing incidents Mir has ever experienced! Almost as bad as that... " _situation_ " in Kolskeggr...’’ Mi'rasj rubs his face with his hand, blushing and grinning at his own mistakes.

‘’At least your fur was not made permanently _pink_!’’ Yoake says with a snicker. ‘’... _that_ would have been _seriously_ embarrassing for you, my fine feline friend!’’

Mi'rasj laughs awkwardly at the thought. ‘’If _that_ had happened, Mir would _shave_ off _all_ his fur and go to live in the desert, like the naked-cats of legends, _hahahah_!’’

Yoake blink at the male sharing her bed for a moment, before covering her face with her elegant hands, laughing and blushing again. ‘’Dear _Mother Cat_ , sweet _Mara_ , what a horrible, _horrible_ mental image you gave me! One could have gone her _whole life_ without picturing a furless Mi'rasj...’’

The cat in mention grins heartily. ‘’Heheh, but now Yoake has it, for better, or for worse!’’

Still clutching her face, Yoake utters ‘’all this one see is a Khajiit with the _skin of a Nord_... it's enough to give one nightmares!’’

Yoake's vivid imagination, able to conjure such a mental image, interests the he-cat. ‘’ _Oufh_ yes, not exactly a sight sent from Mara, eh? Heh.’’

 

The feline female shudders, and starts to massage her temples. ‘’Not a vision from Mara, indeed...though maybe one from _Vaermina_? She is certainly one for nightmares... that reminds me, what does this one say we go to the Pale?’’

Mi'rasj nods in agreement. ‘’Vaermina _does_ like to meddle with our heads... hmm, the Pale? To Dawnstar?’’

‘’Yes..." Yoake stops rubbing her temples, and start to count on her fingers. ‘’...for _one_ , I still have a contract to hand in, _second_ , there is my homestead, Heljarchen Hall. A house with its own stables and all that good stuff! And a lot less stairs...’’

The brown-furred hand of Mi'rasj slowly tugs on his whiskers. ‘’ _Hmm_... Yoake's house sounds tempting to Mir... did she design it after her own head?’’

‘’Mostly," she says, smiling. "It's unfinished though, I'm still working on the kitchen. Perhaps you'll have some ideas for it?’’

‘’Mir _should_ come with ideas! If Heljarchen Hall would only be decorated according to Yoake's head, it would be almost _empty_ , _haha_!’’

Mi'rasj receives a slap on the arm for the quip. Though his smiling face make Yoake smile as well. She tries to assert herself in a serious tone.

‘’Ha. Ha. _Veeery_ funny. Should one tell you what happened to the _last_ jester I met?’’

Mi'rasj tilts his head, thinking about the possibilities the... _eccentric_ , bad side of Yoake could be capable of.

‘’Did this one chop off his reproductive organs and made him eat them?’’

‘’No.... This one sew them to his nose... then she killed him. _His_ name was _Cicero_...’’

‘’Oh.’’ The he-cat is actually speechless for a little while.

‘’Mir will have minx know she will have greater difficulty achieving this on a fellow Khajiit, because Mir's " _tools_ " are retractable.’’

Yoake raises one eyebrow, and tilts her head. "Oh? I thought only Frost Trolls could do that. Then I assume I need not tell you that I also carved out his heart, cut his body into pieces and set fire to the remains?’’

Mi'rasj holds up one of his fingers. ‘’Male Khajiit can also do this. It is to prevent snagging on the trees, cliffs and buildings we often climb in Elsweyr... but, in cold climate, this "ability" helps the tools to stay intact and functional.’’

Yoake give him a sceptical look. ‘’ _Uhuuuh_... this one know I am Khajiit as well, yes? I'm pretty sure I would know the "abilities" of my own kind.’’

‘’Of course Mir does, minx! But this one did not know of this ability in male Khajiit. This is new to her."The he-cat sighs, and continues: ‘’When it is time for a he-cat and a she-cat to mate, this ability is clearly demonstrated. Is Yoake saying that she is... _inexperienced_ with this... event?’’

The eyes of the lynx-like Khajiit narrow a bit. ‘’No, I'm saying I believe you are the only Khajiit with this ability; I for one, have never seen or heard of it before!’’

The he-cat opposite of her frowns, while blushing.‘’Oh? Is that so? Hm! Sounds like Mir is special in more ways than he thought... is Yoake... _curious_?’’

‘’A _tad_ ,’’ she smiles. ‘’...but you have _orders_ not to do _anything_ strenuous for a week, at least.’’

‘’Indeed, this one should not exert himself... but what if _someone_ did the necessary strenuous action... _for_ him?’’

‘’Considering that you were shot in the bum... that would be painful.’’

‘’If Mir was to move around, yes. If he were to lie still, however, he thinks all would be well.’’

Yoake give him her dead-pan look. ‘’I think _you_ need to think... because no matter what you do, there would be weight _and_ pressure.’’

‘’If the one who applies the weight and pressure were to use the "Become Ethereal" Shout, this challenge would no longer exist.’’

‘’Because the one that used the Shout cannot be touched... and could not touch the other?’’

‘’The Shout only make it so that the Shouter cannot harm or be harmed. Also, their stamina would not drain, and they would still have physical shape! Because of these things, Mir still thinks his idea will be both possible _and_ free of pain.’’

‘’Cannot harm or be harmed. And seeing as it would harm, the Thu'um would not allow it.’’

‘’The Shout would stop them from harming _intentionally_ , yes. But also _unintentionally_? Mir doubts that.’’

‘’I don't think the Shout care if it's intentional or not, it will simply prevent its user from harming or being harmed.’’

Mi'rasj sighs, and pull on his whiskers again.

‘’Then what about using "Slow Time" to make the most out of the act... for the Shouter at least?’’

Mi'rasj only receive a dead-pan look in return. The moment draws on. ‘’...well?’’

 

Yoake sighs, and smiles. ‘’You're hopeless, you know that, Mir?’’

‘’Hopeless, but hopeful! Besides, under the effect of Slow Time, the user will have more time to think about what they are doing, and making sure they are not harming the... " _victim_ ".’’

‘’ _Eehh_... how about we wait until you are well? It's much more... _fun_... then.’’

But the he-cat's hormones are now coursing through his body, ruining his logic, reducing his reasoning.

‘’ **Impossible**! Mir cannot wait _that_ long! He has been close to rupturing for _days_! The other female Khajiit are busy with the caravans!’’

Yoake's ears angle themselves down and backwards at the scene in the bed. ‘’I am _very_ close to knocking you out with a frying pan, hairball,’’ she says bluntly.

The uneasy he-cat stop flailing his arms, and sighs in resignation. ‘’Mir is sorry, he is overreacting,’’ he mutters in a sad, gravelly voice. ‘’There must be something in his blood. Or brain. Or heart. Something they gave him at the temple.’’

‘’ _Or_ ," Yoake says, in a softer tone, ‘’...perhaps he's just lost too much blood for his brain to function as it should!’’

The silence that follows expresses Mi'rasj' shame.

‘’Mir bled for a _long_ time, no? And it doesn't help that what remains of his blood is going other places than the brain.’’

‘’The Gods were cruel,’’ the she-cat says forgivingly. ‘’...they gave men _two_ heads, but only enough blood for _one_ to function at a time...’’ Mir chuckles and smiles, and slightly shifts in the bed.

‘’Fortunately, they do not need to use both heads at the same time!’’

‘’You sure about that?’’

Yoake tries not to laugh at the now milder face of Mi'rasj, all eager and hopeful again.

‘’Mir guarantees it. Which means if Yoake want him to shut his mouth for tonight, she either need to hit him in the head with said frying pan, or... make his  _second head_ even more... _interested_.’’

Yoake reaches down for one of the empty platters, and study it with unnecessary fascination before hitting Mi'rasj on the head with it. ‘’ _Meowch_!’’

‘’I'm too lazy to go and get a frying pan... and I rather not damage your brain, it's hard to find one _this rarely_ _used_!’’

Hurt both physically and emotionally, after a brief, but sad look at the cruel but well-meaning Khajiit by his side, Mi'rasj slides down from the pillows and carefully lays down on his side, with his back toward Yoake.

The feline female cannot help to think that she went a bit far. She puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. ‘’Poor Mir... would it help if I let you use my lap as a pillow?’’

Although Yoake cannot see it, Mi'rasj' eyes pops wide open, and almost out of their sockets. ‘’Wh-wha- _what_ did you say?’’

Yoake must bite her tongue to keep herself from bursting into laughter. She finds his bewilderment hilarious as well as lovable.

The spotted she-cat rearranges the pillows against the headboard to be able to lean back more comfortably.

‘’I said " _would it help if I let you use my lap as a pillow_ ", though if the answer is yes, I have to ask you to get rid of the armour first. My _linens_ are _one_ thing, but I'd rather not get holes in my _legs_...’’

‘’ _Mmhyes_ , Mir thinks it would help both his body and soul, if Yoake would be so generous.’’

Yoake drape her blanket around her form, and nestle herself deep into the comfy pillows. ‘’I'm _all_ ready for you, Mir...’’ _  
_

‘’Would this one please help Mir with his armour?’’ _  
_

Yoake emerges from her soft place of rest. ‘’Stay like that for a bit," she says, and undoes the buckles holding the two halves of the armour together. She notices Mi'rasj's breath is a little fast, it seems his body is focused on something else entirely. ‘’There! Now for the other side. Lie on your belly, please.’’ _  
_

 

Mi'rasj puts himself on his stomach, and Yoake starts unfastening the other side. She had to lean on his back to reach the buckles, and as expected (of both), her bust came to rest atop of his back, something Yoake had mixed feelings about.  
Buckles opened, she pushes the armour off him, at the same time as Mi'rasj pushes himself up using his arms, and use his right to shove the other half out of the way.

They end up, much to Yoake's amusement, crossing each other, with her midsection resting on his lower back, just over the hem of his loincloth. Spontaneously, Mi'rasj relaxes his arms, then push himself back up, making an exercise of the situation. He then begins to laugh at the absurdity of it all, shaking with part laughter, part strain. Yoake, still laying atop of him, laugh with him as well, bobbing up and down from the repeated clenching and relaxing of her abdominal muscles from her snickering.

‘’Woah, easy there, _raht_!" Yoake exclaims when the he-cat below her reaches a handful of repetitions. ‘’...I'm pretty sure this qualifies as "strenuous"!’’

Mi'rasj heed her words. Relaxing and staying down, he allows Yoake to dismount safely. She affectionately taps the panting he-cat on his nearest arm.

‘’ _Gzalzi_ ,’’ she exclaims, when she is once again nestled in her spot. ‘’Vaba,’’ Mi'rasj agrees as he regains his composure. ‘’That _certainly_ got the blood flowing! _But_... since this one _insists_ it is time for napping...’’ _  
_

The she-cat deftly grabs the corner of her blanket, and drape it over her once again.  
‘’My lap is ready,’’ she says in a tone unknown to Mi'rasj, and taps her blanket-covered thigh. He frowns for a split-second, unsure of her intentions, but he carefully drag himself over to her nevertheless. The he-cat places his weary head in her lap facing her.

‘’Mir would prefer to look upon Yoake when he awakens, rather than the cold, empty room, if she doesn't mind.’’

The woman in question reach down and scratch his chin, making Mi'rasj close his eyes reflexively. ‘’I don't mind that at _all_ , Mir. In fact, I'm honoured that you would rather look upon _me_ than the room.’’

The he-cat flick his beige tongue at the female's quip, then starts to purr as she switches from scratching his chin to stroking his hair. Mi'rasj' throat vibrates in a rhythmic, pleasant manner, and Yoake feel his purring resonate in her entire nether region. When she bends forward, to redo the handful of braids that came apart during their adventure, she feels the purring even stronger. It becomes a satisfying lullaby, and Yoake feels the claws of sleep tugging at her. She is unable to finish all the braids-to-be, before she must lay back to sleep in an acceptable position. When sleep conquers her shortly, Mi'rasj's purring is still going strong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta'agra dictionary:
> 
> Varzeva = Sugar-tail (clumsy, goofball)  
> Gzalzi = Absurd  
> Vaba = It is, indeed
> 
> All Ta'agra words are found on http://www.taagra.com/


	9. No More Stairs!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone wants a visual representation of what Yoake de Khaja looks like, here's a link: https://sta.sh/0mwnntsdn5n  
> And this is Mi'rasj: https://sta.sh/0oim7l3xbn6  
> (We couldn't figure out how to add the picture on this site)

A week came and went as Mi'rasj healed from his wounds. The first few days was filled with the male trying to do things he not yet should do, and Yoake threatening him back to bed with whatever she had at hand, including a ladle, a sword, and a half-plucked chicken.

Things got a bit more peaceful after the fourth day, when the he-cat's behind was improved enough for him to stand, and he thus were allowed to indulge in the alchemy lab. Something that, while it kept the honey-furred Khajiit from having to coerce him into resting,  _did_  result in a few minor explosions, as well as a more... colourful incident, one which left Mir with a shockingly pink tail for the better part of a day.

That is not to say no adventures were had, though they were unintentional. Wanting to get out of the house, mostly to avoid having her fur turned interesting colours, Yoake decided to investigate a crime that, admittingly, had happened some time ago.  
The murder of a woman named Margret in the marketplace. Yoake had seen the murder herself, and been asked by a man, with rather impressive facial tattoos, who said his name was Eltrys, to investigate the murder. And now she had the time on her hands to do so.

At the beginning the whole thing seemed rather straight forward. The sneaky she-cat had checked the room Margret had rented at the Silver-Blood Inn the same day the woman had been killed, but Yoake had never gotten closer to solving the mystery of  _why_. Now, after actually reading the journal and the note she found in the warrens where the murderer, Weylin, had lived, things got more complicated.  
The trail of clues lead her to Nepos the Nose, who admitted he had directed the killing, under orders from the King in Rags, Madanach himself. At which point, the wizened old administrator's household apparently decided the she-cat had heard enough, and attacked, forcing her to flee.

Returning to Eltrys, who was waiting at the Shrine of Talos, she found him killed. The culprits were most likely the city guards "investigating" the room, probably waiting for her. As soon as Yoake stepped closer, the guards accused her of snooping around, which she was guilty of, and framing her for the murders of both Margret and Eltrys, something the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood had to work hard to keep from laughing at. She had, after all, committed many murders, including the Emperor himself, but she ended up in jail for a killing she had not done! The guard did not even know who they had caught.

Thrown into the infamous Cidhna Mine, and stripped of all her possessions, the crafty feline immediately set to work finding Madanach, who Nepos had said was in the prison mine somewhere, still leading the Forsworn by unknown means. While she did not like the Forsworn, and had not forgiven them for shooting Mi'rasj, their King was for the moment her best chance at getting out.

Yoake had to perform several menial tasks to get to eventually see the old man, and finally proving herself to him by, of course, assassinating one of the other inmates. The killing did not feel justified to her like the contracts she got from the Night Mother did, since the only reason Madanach wanted him dead was that the poor man was the only one who had not sworn loyalty to the Forsworn and were thus suspected to be a spy. Yoake knew she would carry the guilt of his murder to her grave. But she had to get out.

All in all, she was out by nigh-sunrise, without having to swear fidelity to the Forsworn, though Madanach promised that word of her aid would be spread among the Forsworn camps and they would not attack. One of the others had even gotten her belongings. It could not have been easy to raid the chest with the prisoner's belongings, and not get tempted to steal her Blade of Woe or septims, but as Yoake went through her pouches and pockets, she found to her relief that nothing was missing. "Now... what route to take out of here..."

Earlier, Mi'rasj had soon heard that his dear companion had been arrested, and later on imprisoned, the act impossible to keep quiet, seeing as she was the Thane of Markarth. He knew that she would manage to get out within twenty-four hours, and that she would want to get out of Markarth as soon and as quickly as possible. Mi'rasj, after Argis went to the Jarl to discuss the terms of his thane's freedom the same evening, did some preparatory stretching, and went to gather their things, as well as various supplies, so that the two Khajiit could make a hasty "holiday" away from the city they had both just about had enough with.

The he-cat first went to his side of Yoake's bedroom, stuffing his old burlap trousers into his haversack, as well as some extra loincloths. He picked up his dear book, Ahzirr Traajijazeri, from his ornate corner nightstand. There was no telling when he might return here, so he also went to the alchemy lab and recovered several potions of his own concoctions, useful for drinking or bartering with.

"The minx will _sacrifice_ Mir if he doesn't pack her bag with the same stuff that is in his bag. That means... clothes, underwear, potions, food, weapons... hhhh... but this is a clever tactical choice... since each of us will be able to support the other should they be separated from their bag."

Yoake had left Vlindrel Hall without much on her person, so after raiding the pantry for food and drink, Mi'rasj put down his haversack next to the entrance and went back to the bedroom. Her roomy bag was lying in one of the corners on her side of the room. In a few minutes it was starting to fill up with clothes, bundles of arrows of different types, as well as an assortment of daggers and Chillrend.

While placing several potions (including potions of water breathing) into the bag, Mi'rasj suddenly felt like he had to hurry. He paused, frowned, then, bringing Yoake's bag with him, hurried to the front door and peeked out. Judging by the position of the moon, it was quite early in the morning, the ideal time to make a break for freedom, seeing as the guards would be at their sleepiest, and Markarth would be nearly devoid of people in its streets.

Mi'rasj made his way down some of the steps from Vlindrel Hall, and sure enough, mere moments after his eyes adjusted to the near-darkness, he saw a familiar form with a tail stealthily emerging from the gaps between the entrance to the shrine of Talos and the back wall of the temple of Dibella. Yoake saw him, and he saw her. The he-cat wondered if his assumption of a hasty holiday was correct. He made a "rest?"-swoosh with his tail, to which Yoake swished her tail dismissively. Mi'rasj made a second gesture with his tail, "run?", to which the crouching she-cat reacted confirmatively. With that, he went back up to Yoake's house and got their packs, while the owner of the house climbed down and ended up by an overturned barrel outside the door to the Silver-Blood Inn, now closed.

Overhead, the she-cat heard Mir drop down a level, onto the stairs towards the northern corner of the market. That signalled Yoake it was time for her to move, so she started to jog towards the town's exit. In the corner of her eye, she could see the glowing red eyes of the Saviour's Hide approaching her side.

Together the two Khajiit went through the metal doorway, each delivering a swift kick to the helmet of the guards on either side of the outside wall, rendering them unconsious, before jumping over the stairs and dashing to the stables.

"When we ride, follow Mir! Quick route!", the he-cat said while they untied Arvak and Shadowmere. "Alright!"

After he threw Yoake her bag, they both mounted their otherworldly horses and set off in a canter, Mi'rasj first.

They rode on the stone road, but instead of going around the bend by the mountainside, the he-cat instead went straight ahead, through a gap in the wall barricades, and towards the short guard tower to the right. The wall towards the road was incomplete, and barely wide enough to comfortably fit a horse. After looking back for any pursuers as well as Yoake, Mi'rasj urged Arvak into a gallop, and after an impressive jump, the flaming skeletal horse landed in the middle of the road and slowed to canter. When he heard Shadowmere following suit, he set Arvak off into a gallop once more, knowing the large red-eyed stallion and his rider would have little difficulty catching up to them. By now the sky had glorious shades of orange. At the break of dawn, they left the great City of Stone, and rode out into the rising light. Before they reached the bridge, they slowed their horses to a trot, giving them time to wave a polite goodbye to the Khajiit caravan a stone's throw away on the road to the left.

As they trotted over the bridge and up the hill into the narrow valley, Yoake looked over her shoulder at Markarth one last time, quietly promising it would be a long time until she entered that stair-infested place again. Turning forward, she finds Mi'rasj grinning at her from atop of Arvak, a few paces in front of her.

With a cheeky wink he shouts ''Race to Reachcliff cave!'', then urges his undead mount into a gallop.

The skeleton horse bounds off, leaving the black-clad female and her black stallion behind, only dust and the he-cat's distant laughter to keep them company. With a grin, Yoake tug at the rains, making the immortal horse rear up before chasing after, gaining ground with every stride until they are side by side as they thunder down the narrow mountain road, the sound of galloping hooves echoing between the steep mountain sides. Sending the glaring Khajiit a sly smile, the she-cat hunch down further on Shadowmere's back as the stallion easily takes the lead, a laughter escaping her as they continue up a path to the right, and over a river.

Turning her head, she yells back ''This one should know better than to challenge Tamriel's fastest horse to a race,'' only to find him having his eyes on somewhere other than the road. He replies "Behind minx is not a bad spot to be!"

Yoake sighs, somewhat annoyed from being ogled at and the lack of compassion from her companion. Her annoyance is instantly cured however, as Mi'rasj knew the weight his words would bring.  
The he-cat shouts ahead: "Don't worry, we will talk at Reachcliff!"


	10. The Khajiit Account

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the long awaited and *immensely* aniticipated backstory of Yoake of The Sands.  
> (...and some more of Mir's ;3 )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from co-author VikingWalker:  
> I apologize for the deviance regarding the publishing date of this chapter.  
> The reason for this postponement is that I've written a lot on Mir's improved/revised flashback in chapter 5, as well as I actually wrote most of *this* chapter from scratch, and not converting a draft, like me and NorthAur usually do.  
> Then I just kept extending and tweaking, because I felt many parts lacked impact, story, mood, etc.  
> Alright, get ready for some backstory!

Shadowmere narrowly avoids the swipe of an angry bear in the mountain pass leading up to the Orc fortress Dushnikh Yal. Although it is early in the morning, most of the Orcs are already up and about. Gharol rekindles the forge, and Murbul concocts an antidote for the rockjoint Ghorbash recently contracted. A faint, continuous rumbling emanates from the nearby pass, increasing in strength. The Orcs rally, and rush to the walkways with their weapons drawn. The commontion is enough for chief Burguk to emerge from the longhouse in nothing but ragged trousers, mace in hand. Shel, one of his wives, is peeking out from crack of the door.

‘’What in _Oblivion_ is going on?! Arob, what do you see?!’’ the chief roars.

Arob the Hunts-Wife had ran to one of the watchtowers and is now scanning her surroundings. Her son Nagrub is in the other tower.  
The thunderlike rumbling grows louder.

Arob yells to the rest of the fortress: ‘’It's the sound of hooves we hear! From the pass! By Malacath! Two _Daedric_ horses with Khajiit riders!’’

‘’ _Hostile_?!’’ chief Burguk yells back.  
  
‘’ _Unknown_!’’

The gallop of the horses causes the ground to vibrate. Burguk leaps up to the walkway just in time to see a shrouded figure atop a massive pitch-black stallion with glowing red eyes speed past the northern wall, tailed by a someone in metal and fur atop a dark living horse skeleton, burning with intense bluish purple flames. A sight capable of giving even the toughest Orc nightmares. The chief grits his teeth as the riders hurry past the fortress and ride north across a rocky plain. The rider atop of the black horse laughs loud and free as she and her steed fly across the ground, sending echoes ringing over the fort. Although he doesn't show it, chief Burguk is deeply anxious, and the event gives Dushnikh Yal something to talk about for years to come, as well as a story to scare any disorderly children.

Mi'rasj knows that for each second that passes, the distance between their horses grow slightly larger. Ahead on their right is the path leading down to Reachcliff cave, on their left is a magnificent Dwemer tower, still largely intact, near a large outcrop. If he is to reach Reachcliff first, he would have to do something remarkable. The he-cat gets a rather risky idea.

‘’ _Do now, worry later_ ,’’ is his internal comment to his plan.

He steers Arvak towards the tower, and rides along its right side, while Yoake hurries down the path below him. Mi'rasj slows his steed, and dismounts. The outcrop extends far to the northeast, almost directly above the cave entrance. Over the panting of his otherworldy mount, he hear the thundering hooves of Shadowmere somewhere below on his right. Yoake is less than a minute away, as there is a winding road and a sharp turn she will have to ride through to reach the cave.

‘’Good run! We will meet again soon, trevan,’’ the Khajiit says as he pets Arvak on the jaw.

Mi'rasj secures his haversack, jogs a handful of fathoms away from the cliff, then sprints towards the drop. He then utters ''Feim'', becoming ethereal and impervious to damage, and leaps over the edge in a spectacular swallow dive.

As the male freefalls towards the ground at an accelerating pace, he wonders if he will have enough time to make his arrival seem legitimate. He squints to the right. His companion and her horse are nowhere to be seen, though that will not last long. He pulls his knees to his chest, arcs his back to straighten up, then extend his legs to land.

Under normal circumstances, the impact would have shattered virtually every bone in the Khajiit's body and caused his legs to impale his torso. Fortunately, 'Feim' was still in effect, making the strain Mi'rasj felt as if he had only jumped from a chair.

Upon landing, Mi'rasj summons Arvak outside the cave as quickly as he can, and mounts him. And none too soon; the hooves of Shadowmere can be heard shortly before he and Yoake gallop up the path a few seconds later.

The female feline tilts her head, wearing a look of confused suspicion while looking at Mi'rasj's grin.

‘’Huh... I could have _sworn_ you were _behind_ me, Mir...’’

Sitting atop Shadowmere, the she-cat looks at Mi'rasj, back at the only path to the cave, then back to the cave, and back at the male again.

‘’...I think I saw a ghost soar down the cliff when I rounded the bend. You know anything about that?’’

Mi'rasj shrugs. ‘’These hills could indeed be haunted... by both Forsworn and their victims. Could be a ghost from someone who was forced to jump... condemned to repeat it. But be assured: This one had definitely _nothing_ to do with whatever Yoake saw.''

Yoake grins and shakes her head. ‘’Let's go, Mir.’’

 

She turns her huge mount and trots back the path that leads to the main road. Mi'rasj urges Arvak to follow at a relaxed pace. As they ride along the Karth River, Yoake ponders how on Nirn Mi'rasj reached the cave before she did. She turns to the male at her side.

‘’I'm _not_ going to let you win if you did so by cheating! One is aware that there is only one path to the cave, right? Nice _try_ though.’’

Mi'rasj is grinning. ‘’Yes, but no one said _not_ taking the path would mean disqualification! Ooo, a shrine of Dibella,’’ he says, pointing to the adorned shrine next to the road near the bridge a stone's throw from Old Hroldan Inn. ‘’Mir is a fan of her more... _devoted_ followers.’’  
  
‘’Pleasure-seeking as you are? I don't doubt that a bit! But don't try to change the subject, varzeva! Am I supposed to believe yourode Arvak _down the cliff_?!’’

The brown-furred he-cat tugs on his whiskers philosophically.

‘’Hmm... not _necessarily_. Yoake could believe what _really_ happened: Mir urged Arvak to do an epic jump over a large chasm, but then he landed on the back of a new type of dragon that flew through the canyon! The dragon was very, very quiet, as well as invisible! It was kind enough to allow Khajiit a courtesy flight to a spot well suited for arriving there. And, here we are! The wandering M'aiq can tell you more about these dragons!’’  
  
Yoake is perplexed and speechless.  
  
‘’ _Heh_ , Kha'jay-zrimith looks esho stupefied!’’ Mi'rasj says with a wide grin.  
  
The she-cat realize the Ta'agra word word for ''moonbeam'' is a reference to her silvery, straight hair. Mir was both paying respects to the Moons, and complementing her beauty in a single nickname.  
  
‘’While I _do_ appreciate the compliment, I have to wonder how your brain even _functions!_ Did you have some Je’m’ath or Skooma before we left?’’  
  
‘’Just a potion of fortify speech... concocted by none other than Mi'rasj of Riverhold.''  
  
‘’... if you say so, liter,’’ the she-cat says as she shakes her head in light-hearted resignation.

  
  
At this point, they are passing the impressive Lost Valley Redoubt and Bard's Leap Summit to the south. The two Khajiit spy Forsworn in the encampment, both sides realize the other is too far away to react aggressively. Mi'rasj breaks the silence.

‘’Caution, the Forsworn may have captured Sungard Fort just east of here. Prepare for potential gallop in case of arrows.’’

‘’One can tell Shadowmere wants to speed up... this is as good a time as any. Let's go, arrows or not! _Hiah_!’’

 As the two menacing horses hurry down the road, the steep cliff on their left become a grey blur as the two ride towards and past the fort, where indistinct shouts can be heard. Mi'rasj and Yoake laugh as they slow their mounts when they pass the path leading up to Sunderstone Gorge, where they are out of reach for any arrows the fierce tribals may possess.

‘’Ah, another conflict potentially avoided! We will live long this way,’’ the male says with a sigh of relief.  
  
‘’More like _ignored_... and while me _may_ survive longer, those times will be dull if they will be like _this_.’’

‘’Given Khajiit's... _exceptional_ way of getting into demanding situations, Mir doubt those times will be filled with boredom for long. And if blood-surging events become a rarity we could always _create_ such ''situations'' ourself,’’ Mi'rasj says with a wink.

‘’Hmm, _somehow_ I don't think you have combat in mind.’’

‘’Battle filled with _death_ is not _everything_ in _life_... sometimes one need to _nurture_ life as well.’’

‘’ _Not getting shot_ is a way to nurture life.’’

‘’Hahah... it certainly is... but there are more... _entertaining_ ways to nurture life, situations that does not require us to be in the vicinity of enemies... _entertaining_ situations Yoake suggested we could try when Mir fully recovered... something he clearly has.’’

 Stopping her horse between the two crossroads that lead to Rorikstead, Whiterun, and Falkreath, the honey-furred Khajiit look at her companion.

Yoake sighs. ‘’Are those... ''activities'' the only thing on your mind? I think this... suggestion of yours comes up quite often.’’

Mi'rasj halts Arvak as well. ‘’Ehh... well, no, lots of less... _distracting_ thoughts in Mir's head, too! But is it so wrong to wish for purrfect, pleasurrable prrocreation?’’

‘’No, but there are wrong _times_ and _places_ to crave those sorts of activities!’’

‘’This one didn't say _this_ is the right place for that! Mir was simply _planning_... and uttering a proposal, a suggestion.’’

‘’We will see if I take you up on your _suggestion_ later,’’ Yoake says as she shakes her head at the eager male and kicks Shadowmere into a slow walk, thus ending _that_ discussion. Mi'rasj scrathes his ear, and nudges Arvak to follow.

  
‘’Anyway, sugar-tail, you once asked what this one's story was...’’  
  
‘’Yes... Mir did. Minx said it was a lot like a minotaur's tongue; long and messy, not suited for a bar. And now... we are no longer in one! Would Yoake rather share her past than her present, with the situation in Cidna in mind?’’  
  
‘’Cidna was... _mine'y_ , with a _sprinkle_ of prison and an interesting taste of slavery.’’  
  
‘’This one emerged from that hole stronger, yes? Scarred, maybe, but stronger, Mir hopes.’’  
  
‘’Well, now that the present has been covered, and you have told _your_ story to _me_... it's only fair you hear mine.’’  
  
Mi'rasj smiles warmly. ‘’This one wants to share her story _here_ , nowhere near civilization? Just as well... no witnesses to hear what comes out of Yoake's mouth. Mir is ready, Kha'jay-zrimith.’’

‘’Exactly. And there is something I would like you to see... that will come later today.’’  
  
They trot on a winding stone slab path past Half-Moon Mill. A mild breeze sweeps through the canyon from the towering mountains to the south, causing the pine trees to make a pleasant, soothing sound. Turning Shadowmere southward towards Falkreath and the secret place that held the most importants parts of her story, Yoake takes a deep breath.

‘’This one left Elsweyr... _four_ years ago now, curious of the world beyond the borders of our homeland. She worked as a guard for the caravans, or mercenary, or seller of the pelts and meat of the animals and beasts she hunted. In this way one wandered the lands of Tamriel, including Hammerfell and High Rock... this one never got arrested for thievery or robbed by lizardfolk though,’’ flashing a grin at the he-cat.

‘’Hm, impressive... Mir would like to visit other lands than Cyrodiil and Skyrim in the years that will come... but count Swamp-Land out. Yoake was fortunate to be able to sustain herself in an... _honest_ manner. Oh, she was a _merc_? What did this one do?’’  
  
‘’Never a lack of squabbling nobles or merchants, always wanting to outshine each other with _this_ relic, or _that_ exotic creature... I even went giant baiting once...’’  
  
‘’ _Giant_... _baiting_?’’

 ‘’Yah... this old fart of a noble wanted to _truly_ impress his guests, so he wanted a giant. He swore left and right, up and down and every way to Oblivion that he had an amulet that would allow him to control the big guy... only this giant was in some cave, and there was no way he would get his silk robes dirty by going in there. So he hired the merc group I was temporarily a part of. We went in, woke the giant, and made it chase us out...’’

‘’ _Hah_! Then what? Had it chase everyone back to the noble's mansion? Or perhaps paralysis? Enchanted arrows?’’

Yoake smirks, clearly fond of the event that happened next.

‘’The noble was waiting outside, amulet in hand. We dispersed, and the man waved his dear necklace like his arm would eventually come off! The amulet turned out to _fake_ and the giant sent the noble _skyward_! Me and the rest of the group got away from there rather quickly.’’

 Mi'rasj laughs heartily. ‘’ _Haha_ hoho _ho_ oh... it would seem the Moons were not with him! It is none the less quite a feat!’’  
  
‘’Heh, I would gladly pay to see _that_ again... ah, this one remembers seeing the great, white tower of Cyrodiil's capital rise over the water, but she never visited. Instead, she crossed the hills, working her way north till she came Bruma, and there she stayed for a while. Joined up with a Khajiit hunter and fur-trader in the city, we had a good little business going, earning enough to permanently rent rooms at the Jerall View Inn, and have gold left over for food, and some splurging as well.''

‘’What was the cause and result of those changes?’’

‘’One was hunting in the mountains between Skyrim and Cyrodiil, and... _may_ have gotten a bit lost in all the white. So when she saw a fire in the distance, she went towards it, hoping to get pointed in the direction of the nearest village with an inn. She walked into an ambush. This one was knocked out, and awoke in a wagon, hands bound and all her possessions gone, even the clothes one wore. I sat there in the cold, dressed in crude rags... but I got to sit next to Ulfric Stormcloak _himself_ ,’’ the she-cat says coldly.

‘’Mh, the snow-covered mountains by the border can be treacherous. Hhhh... _everything_ Yoake owned was taken from her? Letters from parents, trinkets, weapons, _everything_?’’

‘’Yes, this one has nought from her homeland.''  
  
‘’Except for Mir,’’ he says with a caring, serious look. Yoake gives him a smile of acknowlegdement and gratitude.

 They are in no rush to see whatever Yoake has planned, so Arvak and Shadowmere merely walk at a slow pace next to each other. According to Mi'rasj's sense of direction and time, they are slowly approaching the outskirts of Falkreath.

 ‘’Khi iso,’’ he urges.

 ‘’From one of the other prisoners this one learned that we were taken by Imperial soldiers and headed for Helgen, where we would most likely be executed. She was actually not that worried, as she was the only non-human of the prisoners, and rather obviously _not_ belonging to the group... and she was right... to an _extent_. As we arrived Helgen, we were ordered out of the wagons and to form lines, each of the prisoner's names were called out, and they walked over to gather around the... _site_...

 A horse thief even tried to run, but he didn't get far before he was struck with arrows... the one who called the names notices instantly that that this one was not on the list, and told the guard captain as much, trying to convince her to let me go. She refused, and said that since I was captured _with_ the Stormcloaks, I could _die_ with them. So we waited for our turn under the headsman's axe... as this one was lead up towards the block and forced to kneel, a great roar echoed around the town. Moments later, a huge, dark scaled _dragon_ landed atop of the nearby tower and started shouting and burning everything in sight! I was sent flying halfway across the courtyard...’’  
  
‘’Hhhh...’’ Mi'rasj is quiet for a moment, and looks into the forested distance. ‘’ _Ahziss_ would have been whimpering like a newborn kitten had Mir faced the headsman's axe... impending execution before the adventures in Skyrim even started. ...so this dark dragon, oblivion-bent on destruction, _saved_ Yoake? That is... ironic.’’

‘’Well, one was in a state of _shock_ , one thinks.... this one remember one of her fellow prisoners praying to Akatosh to be saved... and this... _Alduin_ is his _firstborn_...’’

‘’Or Alkosh _himself_ , some speculate. Perhaps Alkosh sent his son... for some reason. At least this one did not die. And Mir is happy for that.’’

‘’This one is rather happy to be alive herself. Now, where was I... aaah, yes. After being sent flying, one was helped and lead to safety by one of the people stationed at the fort, the same one who tried to convince the captain not to kill me. When we got out, he lead the way to Riverwood, and I volunteered to go to the Jarl of Whiterun after a chat with the soldier's uncle, to tell him about the dragon attack. I did not yet know it was Alduin, nor that I am Dovahkiin. After that... the ball just started rolling.’’

‘’Heh... _Dovahkiin_... it is strange, though, that an ancient _Nord_ prophecy is being fulfilled by a _Khajiit_.’’

‘’That title is in dragon language. Indeed, it is strange, but this one finds it _very_ funny _how shocked_ people always are when they see her slay a dragon and absorb its soul,’’ Yoake says with part glee, part boast. ‘’...now that we are on the subject, how in _Oblivion_ did _you_ learn _Shouts_?’’

‘’When Mir was in the Pale Pass, about two years ago, he met a woman... Kaa... Kaaah... riii... _Karita_ , who was on her way to Bruma. She had set up a campfire, and this one was invited to join her. We shared food and drink, exchanged stories and events. Karita was not talkative about her past, wanted to leave it at being a pilgrim. But she aroused Mi-’’

‘’Uuuh _..._ ’’  
  
‘’Mir's _curiosity_ , don't worry, when she let him know she had knocked on the door of an _ancient_ temple on the _highest_ peak in _all of Tamriel_! Even better, the temple was inhabited by members of an ancient order capable of teaching a select few to wield _great_ power using only their _voice_! ’’

‘’Aah, you learned of High Hrothgar and the Greybeards! And so _you_ , the _honourable_ Mi'rasj of Riverhold, was tempted by the power to defeat your foes without even raising your hands!’’  
  
The Khajiit in question sighs. ‘’Yes... _originally_. The idea of flinging one's enemies across a room, or speeding up his reflexes, or altering the weather for example, sounded very appealing to Mir! But that goal was changed when he began his training. The Way of The Voice must... well, _should_ only be used for worship of the gods, and defence, _never_ offence. Of course, in a life-or-death situation, it would be _madness_ not to use every asset one has...’’  
  
Yoake nods in agreement. ‘’You found your way from Pale Pass to that settlement with the bear-hater?’’

‘’Yes, after accidentally setting off that avalanche Mir mentioned in the Silver-Blood inn... indeed, the settlement to start the trek from was no more than a day or so away from where this one and Karita met. He knew, _felt_ he had to go there! After swapping directons, we parted, and Khajiit made his way past Neugrad Fort along the shore of the lake behind it, then to Ivarstead, going over the mountain pass to the northeast. He arrived at midday, and after relaxing, eating, and sleeping, this one woke at dawn to face the mountain.’’

‘’So did you go up the seven thousand steps and just... knocked on the door?’’

‘’Mir tried to count them, but he lost track after three-hundred and twelwe! But, he reached the temple after a couple of hours, nearly _frozen to death_ , for the winds were frigid, and he had no torch or branches to burn. Khajiit slammed his numb hands on one of the two doors and shouted himself hoarse to no avail.  
  
‘’You obviously didn't die, so how did you get inside?’’  
  
‘’Mir went to the slope to the right of the entrance, and went through the righternmost window... all of them were open and large enough for him to crawl through.’’  
  
Yoake burst into laughter, nearly falling off Shadowmere's saddle. Mi'rasj snickers, then giggles, then laughs with her for a good, long while. After regaining their composure, the she-cat holds up her hand.

‘’Why were one not immediately _slaughtered_?!’’

Mi'rasj shrugs. ‘’This one has his way with words... but he also suspects the Greybeards wanted to make Mir have a change of heart regarding what The Voice should be used for... as a matter of fact, Ulfric Stormcloak entered the temple in a similar manner, sneaking in, full of aggression and ambition, a few years before Mir appeared. They were... _mostly_ successful in changing both of our morals, but due to this one's... _aggressive_ tendencies, they restricted what they taught him. After a year of _intense training_ Khajiit could read Dovahzul, Dragonish, almost fluently, and pronounce and effectivly use "Feim", "Faas", "Fus", and "Tiid". This one knows many more Shouts by their function and effect though, but pronoucing them has no result.’’  
  
Since it takes decades to be able to Shout rapidly, Mi'rasj only becomes ethereal, the other Shouts he mentions are without effect.  
  
‘’That you learned Dragonish and so many Shouts in such a short time is nevertheless impressive, yasir-base! Hmm... _hey_ , that ''ghost'' look _suspiciously_ familiar!’’  
  
Mi'rasj smiles and blushes and little from Yoake's compliment, but is quick to defend himself against Yoake's suspicion.  
  
‘’Tonsh jer, but is _that so_? Hm, perhaps the ghost this minx saw plummet down the cliffside used to be a member of one of the Khajiit caravans, huh?’’ he utters as the effect of the Shout wears off, and the Khajiit becomes of flesh and blood again. Yoake shakes her head and a finger.  
  
‘’Pf, _no way_ , One now know how Mir reached the cave before Yoake, varzeva!’’ she says and flicks her tongue. ‘’...he dismounted Arvak, turned ethereal, jumped down, summoned your mount, and jumped on him!’’  
  
The he-cat has an expression of annoyed defeat that he tries to conceal as he pulls on his whiskers.  
‘’Perhaps, perhaps not... what prevents this one from believing in the ''invisible, inaudible dragon'' scenario?’’  
  
‘’Oh, _one_ _don't know_ , _everything_?’’  
  
‘’Yoake _certainly_ doesn't know everything,’’ Mi'rasj quips at her as an attempt to smooth things over, causing the female to plant her hand firmly onto her face with a _slap_.

 As she makes a small gap to behold the jesting male, he winks at her to show that he did indeed pick up on what she meant, and that she was correct in her assumption.  
  
‘’ _Hhhh_ , alright Mir, we're nearly there. Where _everything_ changed.’’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta'agra Dictionary
> 
> Trevan = Friend  
> Varzeva = Sugar-tail (clumsy, goofball)  
> Kha'jay-zrimith = Moonbeam  
> Esho = Nice  
> Je’m’ath = Moon Sugar  
> Liter = Brother  
> Khi iso = Go on (continue)  
> Ahziss = I (as in "I am" or "I will")  
> Yasir-base = Yasir (smart) + head (base), one with aptitude for learning, or smarty-pants in humorous sense  
> Tonsh jer = Thank you
> 
> All Ta'agra words are found on http://www.taagra.com/
> 
> NorthernAurora here, I just want to say, there is an easter-egg in this chapter, so let's play a little game.  
> It's called ''Find the Referance''. Those of you that can not only find it, but also tell me from where (and who) it's from, will get a mental hug from me :D


	11. Betrayal and Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old memories arise as they visit the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moderate violence in this chapter, namely:  
> -Swords in people  
> -Arrows in people  
> -Blood  
> -Description of burned human  
> Northern: UPDATED! New and Improved! Now with more Feels!

The two Khajiit approach Falkreath on their otherworldly mounts, but Yoake's face turns sad as she lowers her head.  
‘’If one said she became Listener of the Dark Brotherhood by _accident_... would Mir believe her?’’

‘’Yoake has been honest so far, as far as this one can tell. So _yes_ , he would believe her. Though the journey to the title must have been... _bloody_ , Yoake found a place to belong. Everyone should have such a place... how did this happen?’’

With a sigh, the lynx-like female steers her dark stead off the road, going left down a small slope between two trees and a boulder.  
At first Mi'rasj thinks she is just going to let Shadowmere drink of the small, and strangely dark pond barely visible from the road.  
But as he and Arvak comes closer, he sees old marks of damage on the ground, the scars that destruction magic leave in earth and stone.  
Yoake continues her tale.

‘’I was looking for work, and entered Windhelm... one overheard some townsfolk talk about how a child was performing some... _dark_ ritual.’’

‘’A battle has taken place here... around a year ago... ah, was Yoake caught in the wake of the darkness connected to the ritual?’’

The female in question looks at Mi'rasj through the corner of her eye and sighs.

‘’ _One year and three weeks_...’’

Upon hearing the weight and pain in those words, Mi'rasj dismounts, and gently squeezes her shoulder from behind with his hand and slowly glide his thumb up and down. They stand in silence. The birds in the trees around them are chirping and lilting happily, unaware of the emotions of the two Khajiit below them.

A single tear runs down and off Yoake's cheek and falls into the dark water. Mi'rasj strokes his tail compassionately against the female's calf.  
Yoake returns the gesture with her tail, then sits down on a ledge to the left of the sinister, scorched door, arms crossed, and gaze unfocused, while the he-cat sits down on a tuft of grass. Arvak and Shadowmere meander between the trees around them.

‘’I wasn't... corrupted by the ritual... this one is Khajiit... and as liter knows well, we are curious creatures. A child has no business calling on such a force of darkness, so one snuck into the house he was in hoping to talk him out of it. The boy was indeed performing a ritual, the Black Sacrament to be exact. He was begging to the Night Mother to send him one of her children, a member of the Dark Brotherhood, and when Yoake appeared, he thought _me one of them_!’’

‘’A _kid_ wanted someone _dead_?! Why? Does not one also need- _oufh_ , human _parts_ as well?’’

‘’He was an orphan, and as such he had been sent to the orphanage in Riften. But the lady, well, _crone_ who ran it was... _not_ nice to the children... the ones she was supposed to _protect_ and _care_ for! So, the boy ran away, and I do _not_ want to think about how _badly_ he had had to be treated to want to summon _assassins_ to kill the wench... _or_ where he got the necessary parts.’’

‘’Many horrible things go unreported, and many often choose to ignore what is likely happening beneath their noses, because that is easier than dealing with it. Did the child give Yoake the contract?’’

‘’True... unfortunately. The boy would not listen when one said she was not a member of the Dark Brotherhood, but I agreed to go to Riften anyway. I've always had a weakness for children, I help them whenever I can... I needed to do _something_ about it. I didn't plan to _kill_ her…  
Even is this one has meet Hagravens kinder than that… that… _draj khrassozay qojiit shabar oriit vakovona_!’’

‘’That's... _admirable_ of Yoake. Heh, that is _one_ way to describe that wretched wench! Did Yoake have a plan?’’

‘’The plan was to expose the… _woman_ … so that the guards could arrest her, but she caught on, and I was forced to kill her... thus... _involuntarily_ fulfilling the contract. The children cheered and were ecstatic and thankful, but this one still hightailed it out of the city. One had no horse, but my feet carried me fast enough; though she kept her walking speed low as to not raise the suspicion of the guards at the gate.’’

‘’Hm. This one thinks the Brotherhood would not take kindly to someone cheating them of a contract _they_ were tasked to solve.  
But if the Night Mother and Sithis let Yoake kill the crone, then she must have deserved to die... perhaps she already had Sacraments performed on her, but the Night Mother had just not shared them with the Listener. Were there repercussions?’’ 

‘’They... _didn't_ take kindly to that, no... a couple of nights later, one rented a room at the Nightgale Inn, went to sleep...  
and woke up not at _all_ in the same place.’’

‘’Mir thinks Yoake did not exactly sleepwalk there. What happened?’’

‘’Heh, no. One woke up in a shack... with three people: a fat Nord guard, an old lady with a dirty mouth, and a slippery Khajiit, all bound and blindfolded along one wall, and the leader of the Dark Brotherhood sitting atop of a bookshelf in the corner. Didn’t see her before she spoke, nearly scared this one out of her fur.’’

Mi'rasj shudders. ‘’Sounds like a twisted game! What did the leader say?’’

‘’The leader, a ruthless lady named Astrid, said that since I had "stolen" a job that had _rightfully_ belonged to the Brotherhood, I had two choices: either kill the captive I believed was the one with a contract on their life, or die myself. Or try to kill _her_ , but this one is not _that_ crazy.’’

‘’That is _awful_! Cruel! _Sadistic_ , even! Was Yoake given any clues?’’

‘’Astrid was ruthless... but there was nothing she cared more about than the Brotherhood and those in it. This one was given clues _in a sense_ , one was free to talk to the captives as much as one wanted. So this one did, and she chose the guard, for he was fat and a coward.  
And if there is one thing you should not trust, it is the guardsman that is fat, and has jewels, weapons or clothing worth more than he should be able to afford... but I will never know if he was the right one. Astrid never revealed it. After I had ''proven'' that I could follow orders, she invited me to the Sanctuary...’’

Yoake turns her head toward the narrow cave entrance in small cliff under the road. A scorched, black door in hangs crookedly from its broken frame, the rock around it broken and crushed, having given way to the combined power of the spells of a dozen Destruction mages.

‘’...Astrid invited me here... and here I found people, epako, who accepted this one _completely_.’’

Mi'rasj follows the female's gaze. ‘’Hhhh... good thinking, choosing the suspicious. Now it appears the Sanctuary is gone, though not without a fight. Mir is sorry to hear Yoake lost so many dear to her here. He does not know how that feels... how was this menacing, dangerous, and capable group of assassins taken down?’’

‘’We were betrayed. A little over a year ago, we were hired to kill Emperor Titus Mede II himself, a job that involved a lot of sneaking around, killing important people, and planting false trails so we could get to the Emperor. _I_ was the one Astrid chose for the assassination itself.  
I posed as The Gourmet, a master chef, to mix poison in the food. I did, and it worked... only it was not the _real_ Emperor who ate the meal.  
They _knew_ we were coming and what we planned to do, so they had laid a trap...’’

* * *

_Standing in the doorway and trying to keep her face contained in a sweet, grateful smile as the Emperor praised her food, praising the skill of ''The Gourmet'' to his dining companions, Yoake could not help the pride swelling in her chest. She had done it! She had assassinated the Emperor, and proven to all of Tamriel that the Dark Brotherhood was still very much a force to be reckoned with._

_As the table turned their focus away from the ''master chef'' in the doorway and tucked into their food, she slipped away and into the shadows behind the door where she had hidden her swords, a pair of Hammerfell scimitars, along with her dark cowl and gloves. The chef's tunic she was wearing to disguise herself was loose enough that she wore her shrouded armour underneath it. She slid the tunic over her head, and picked up her cowl as her ears picked up the sound of the poison taking effect, and the Emperor's life ending. She pulled on her gloves and fastened her swords to her belt as the halls echoed with running feet as the guards looked for the killer. In the shadows she waited, until it grew quiet once more, though she could hear the distant ringing of an alarm bell outside as the city went into high alert and the gates were shut to keep anyone from escaping. A grin bloomed on her muzzle as she slid into the dining room again, passing the Emperor's body in his throne, heading for the door on the other side that lead onto the bridge over the marketplace. Apparently no one thought a murderer would be bold enough to use that exit._

_Slipping out the door, Yoake suppressed the urge to cheer, oh, just wait till she got back to the Sanctuary! Praising herself for her forethought to buy a few bottles of mead, brandy, Argonian Bloodwine and even some Matze and loading them in Shadowmere's saddlebags, she turned toward the tower that lead to the harbour, already envisioning the party that would ensue when she got home. The young Khajiit was so absorbed in her thought and her victory that she didn't notice the men blocking the path at the end of the bridge. It was only when the Commander started speaking that she looked up and saw the cluster of armed guards waiting for her, weapons drawn, obviously knowing that she would pass that way. Had they attacked the moment she exited the door, she would have been dead, but instead Commander Maro held them back as he smirked gleefully down at her from the upper view point of the tower. Nearly prancing back and forth he told her of how a member of her family had tipped them off, and even offered a trade: The Brotherhood's continued well-being and growth.. in trade for her life! Stopping his prancing, he looked down his nose at the assassin before him, and Yoake could feel her hackles rising as her tail lashed the air behind her and her ears flattening even more against her head under her cowl, her every instinct telling her that whatever came next would make this so much worse._

_And she was right. Maro pridefully told her that he had tired of their little deal, and sent the Pentitus Oculatus to the Falkreath Sanctuary with orders not to leave anyone alive, but she didn't need worry about that, for she would die here tonight. At those words the world seemed to slow, as if time was moving through thick sirup, and the only sound was her own heartbeat hammering in her ears, until a screaming roar tore through the air. It took her a moment to realise it was her own. Still moving in a fog she threw herself forward, ripping her blades from their sheaths, time only regaining its regular pace as their sharp edges ended a guard's life, and painted the stone red with blood. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Lucien tearing through the men every bit as vicious as herself, but she could not remember summoning him, nor did she care. All she cared about was getting out, and back to the Sanctuary where her family was in mortal danger._

_Maro had disappeared, or perhaps he was one of the men contributing to the pools of red splashing beneath her boots as she cut down the last of the guards. Not wasting a second to look behind her, she ran down the stairs, hitting the door at the bottom almost hard enough to make it fly of its hinges. Shadowmere was waiting just outside, antsy at the commotion he had heard from above and the smell of blood on his mistress'_ _clothes as well as the distress in her movements. Lucien right behind her with rage in his eyes had also an effect. Taking barely a moment to cup the stallion's mule in her hands and look in him eye, she explained what had happened. ''It was a trap, Shadowmere! They are attacking the Sanctuary!'' With those words she swung into the saddle, barely having time to pull the ghost up behind her before the ancient horse took off up the road, clattering over the bridge and galloping up the hill. They reached the stables just as a group of mounted guards swung into their saddles, and they immediately gave chase after the dark rider. They almost caught up with them as they had to slow for the sharp turn onto the main road, but when they reached it, without even the slightest prompting from his rider, Shadowmere, wiser and more intelligent than any mortal horse, remembering what happened two hundred years ago, switched into a full gallop, flying along the road and leaving only dust behind._

_Through and across Dragon Bridge, splashing over the river by Robber's Gorge, slowing up the long, steep hill towards Rorikstead and onto the plains, heading straight for the road towards Falkreath and the Sanctuary. The landscape flew by like a blur, and anyone who saw them only caught a brief glimpse of black and glowing red, the only remnant of their passing being the thunder of hooves echoing through the night. But even so, time seemed to move even faster, and the road seemed to go on and on with no sign of their destination. But finally, as the moons set and the sky to the east started to debate if it should show signs of lightening with the coming dawn, and a fog rolled down from the mountains, they passed Half-Moon Mill and turned down the hill towards home._

_Yoake felt Lucien's strangely weightless but solid hands tighten at her sides. ‘’Do you smell smoke?’’_  
  
The question sounded like it was being ground out between clenched teeth. Taking a sniff, and this time actually noticing what she had been smelling for a while: mixed with the thick fog was the smell of magefire. Just as she opened her mouth to answer, an affirmative a scream of immense pain ripped through the still air, a scream in a voice she knew, freezing the blood in her veins. ‘’Festus... FESTUS!’’

_Clearing the last trees, Yoake did not even wait for Shadowmere to stop before jumping of and tearing into the Oculatus members unlucky enough to be the closest. They did not even have enough time to realise they were being attacked before they were dead on ground. A soldier further from the road had the time to see the threat coming, but it did not help them much against an enraged Khajiit, ghost and otherworldly horse. In what seemed like a few heartbeats all where dead outside, and she sprinted for the Black Door, praying to any who would listen that the ancient craftsmanship had held. Just outside the entrance, a gruesome sight stopped her in her tracks: Festus pinned to a tree with more arrows that any sane person would use._

_Gasping, and forcing back tears, she could only look away and continue, her grumpy old friend far beyond her help. Slamming a hand against the Door with a cry of ''Silence'' she pushed into the Sanctuary, cutting down the enemies on the stairs and running down into the main room, barely noticing the smoke and fire, her only thought on finding her brothers and sisters. Stumbling over a dead body, she saw a huge, bipedal, lupin fall under Penitus blades. Soon Arnbjorn's killers wetted her and Lucien's blades as the two fell on their foes. Veezara was the next to fall, just as she reached him, he still drew breath as she slew those who injured him. Kneeling by the Shadowscale's side, she dropped her swords and summoned healing magic to her hands, intent to save her friend, only for him to place a scaled hand over hers at the injury at his side._

_‘’It's... too late for... me...’’ gasping for breath, he caught her eyes. ‘’You... must save the... the others, Sister. Fur... further in...’’_

_Pulling her hands away as a small smile twisted the corners of his mouth even as he struggled to draw breath, he put a bloodstained silver amulet in her hands. ‘’Wanted you to... have this. Made it... for you... a gift.'' Veezara gasps and a coughs blood._

_‘’You asked... how to hold your... breath under...under water...’’ Squeezing her fingers around the silver, he gave one last grin.  
‘’Water... breathing.’’ With those words, Veezara, the last of the Shadowscales died in his home, surrounded by fire._

_For an endless moment, all she could do was hold the dead Sakhliit hand, but then she got to her feet, slung the amulet around her neck, scrubbed an arm over her eyes and ran into the empty dining hall, and into the alchemy room. There, Nazir was still holding his own against two of the last foes that were still alive, though she could see what might be Gabriella lying across the table with a slain Lis by her feet. But those observations was pushed to the back of her mind as her focus remained on the one she could still save. The Penitus soldiers had their backs to her, and as such they never saw the blades reflecting fire before they cut into them, nor the Khajiit wielding them. Nazir seemed just as surprised at her sudden appearance, but lowered his own sabre as he recognized her through the smoke._  
  
‘’Yoake? What...What are YOU doing here?’’  
  
Sheathing her sword and moving to Nazir's side, looking him over of any life-threatening injuries, and breathing a sigh of relief when she saw only minor cuts. ''Who wouldn't this one be.... you thought she was the one who betrayed us, didn't you?''  
  
Nazir drew a hand across his face as he looked at the rampant destruction around them, before heading for the hallway back to the main room. ‘’I admit that I did, you where the only one away when they attacked after all. But seeing as you just saved my sorry ass... I wager the whole thing was a trap?’’  
  
Running toward the last doorway, they both had to stop dead in their tracks, as the framing collapsed before them, Nazir almost running into the burning rubble. She grabbed his arm to stop him, and then dragged him with her into the room to her left, where the Night Mother's Coffin was located, aiming for the door and hallway in the other end of the room.  
  
‘’This one will tell you all about it when we get out of here alive!’’  
  
Seeing that the doorway was on the verge of falling as well, she pushed Nazir though it in front of her, before throwing herself back to avoid the small avalanche of stone and burning wood. Rushing to her feet, she could hear the Night Mother calling from behind her. Turning towards what had been a door, she could see Nazir just on the other side.  
  
‘’Listener! Are you hurt?’’  
  
Looking back toward the coffin again as the whisper in her mind grew more insistent, she called back.  
  
‘’I'm fine! Get out of here now! Do not worry about this one, she will find another way!’’

_Over the roar of the flames she could hear Nazir cursing as he ran towards safety. She herself walked over to the Coffin and opened the doors, and, taking a deep breath, stepped inside as the Night Mother told her to do. In the beginning all was dark, and the sound of the fires outside seemed to grow only louder. But then a loud crash and the sensation of falling, and then everything was quiet. A warmth spread around her, like a mother's safe embrace, and in that secure hold she fell asleep. When she awoke it was to the sound of scraping rock and Redguard cursing..._

* * *

 

Rubbing her hands over her face to remove the memories, and the tears, Yoake draw a shaking breath and rise from the ledge, walking slowly towards the black door. The slow, heavy breathing and steady, rumbling heartbeat that used to emanate from it is long gone. Although she doesn't have to, she still whispers ‘’ _Silence, my brother_ ,’’ before she set her shoulder to it, and push it open with some effort. The scent of ash, dust, charred wood and stone, along with the faint, oddly sweet scent of death rolls over her from the rooms within the Falkreath Sanctuary. Mi'rasj takes a hesitating, nervous look over the female's shoulder. 

‘’ _Eeeh_ , Yoake is going _inside_? Does... she... want Mir _with her_?’’

The female feline in question does not reply, her mind is somewhere other than the present, in a place many moons ago.  
She walks through the doorframe with slow, heavy steps.

 _‘’Gzalzi_ , stay here you two,’’ Mi'rasj tell their otherworldly horses, before he resigns with a sigh, swallows, clenches his teeth, and heads on after his companion, his ears drooping in part fear and part respect of this nefarious place.

The honey-furred she-cat has pulled back her hood and is leaning against the stone wall at the beginning of the stairs.  
‘’This one mentioned betrayal and a trap?’’ Mi'rasj asks as he shuts the door.

The narrow eyes of his magical armour, Saviour's Hide, casts a red glow on the stone walls around them, increasing his tension, but it provides enough light to illuminate an arms-reach around them. Yoake sighs once more and continues her account.

‘’The Emperor was in Solitude, and we knew the city would be on high alert after the kill, and probably be locked down. So, this one was to not use the front gate for exiting, but a tower that has a staircase leading to the harbour. To get there, one had to cross a bridge above the marketplace, you probably know the one, and it was there the guards were waiting in an ambush...’’ Her eyes narrow, and her ears flatten in old anger as her voice become a snarl, ‘’The only reason this one is alive is because the guard commander decided to gloat.’’

Mi'rasj leans on the wall across from the recounting female, trying to hide the unease brought forth by the eerie silence of the Sanctuary and Yoake’s anger.

‘’Mh, understandable, good thinking. Hhhh, such arrogance... but at least Yoake walked out of there alive.’’

‘’The commander told me that someone from the Brotherhood had been in contact with him, and they had made a deal: the Brotherhood would be allowed to operate without interference from the Hold guards, in exchange that the plot against the Emperor would fail, and their best assassin would '' _perish_ '' in the attempt,’’ balling her fists to the point where her claws dug into her palms, not caring that the sharp points was probably breaking her skin.

‘’...then he _proudly_ told me he had _double-crossed_ whoever he had made the deal with, and that even _as we spoke_ , the Emperor's personal security force was marching on the Sanctuary with orders to slaughter _anyone_ within...’’ Yoake turn her face to Mi’rasj, blue eyes flashing in the darkness.  ‘’...I summoned Lucien, and together we slaughtered _everyone_ on the bridge after that, one is not sure if she used her claws or her blades...    
but they learned why you should _never_ harm a Khajiit's epako...’’

The he-cat sighs in sympathy. ‘’Mir is sure Yoake made the commander's last moments horribly painful. As would this one...but the commander thought he was doing the _right thing_ : double-crossing a group of assassins to stop them. Foolish of him to gloat, though, he should have taken into account who was standing in front of him... so after his death, Yoake went back to the Sanctuary as fast as she could?’’

‘’Yes, I had hidden Shadowmere near the tower exit, and ran to him as quick as one could. Shadowmere is the fastest horse in all of Skyrim, maybe even all of _Tamriel_ , but I have _never_ ridden him as hard as I did that night, and _never_ has anyone crossed the land as fast as we did.  
It was late evening when this one left the docks of Solitude, and the sky had barely started to brighten in the east when we arrived here.  
But we were _still_ too late, the security force had already broken the door, and they were all over this sacred place, _our home,_ burning it down.  
This one cannot remember much after that... only that her eyesight turned _red_ with rage as the blood _froze_ in her veins...’’

Mi'rasj walks over to Yoake without a word, and hugs her for a good, long while.

When they part, she squeezes his hands for a moment, with a sad smile and a look of gratitude. ‘’Thank you.’’  
The he-cat smiles and nods in reply, and gestures to continue further down into the scorched ruin. Yoake nods and leads the way. 

As they reach the bottom of the first stairs, there is a sizable stone basin in the corner that used to hold embers for warmth.  
Mi'rasj pulls out an unlit torch from his haversack and is about to ignite the torch above the ashes using arcane fire, when Yoake grabs his arm, stopping him.

‘’Please, Mir... no torches... this place has had enough fire and smoke.’’

‘’Ah, Yoake is right. Wafiit apologizes. Please forgive his recklessness and unthinking.’’

‘’It's... alright... I can forgive you, liter, and I will.’’

Yoake slowly makes her way further down the stairs, melancholy in each step. She casts a candlelight, as it is too dark for even the improved night vision of a Khajiit to see anything. The magical light source hovers above Yoake's left shoulder, its bright light makes the two Khajiit squint for a moment, as their eyes are adjusted to the dim illumination from Mi'rasj's armour.

They are standing in a large room with a throne and a charred table with the remains of a map on it, iron daggers still marking several locations or events. On their right are several shelves, some containing fragments of shattered soul gems, phials and urns, and some with skulls, bones, and scorched clothing. The room leads to a bedroom to the left, and another set of stairs going down to a cavern straight ahead.

Yoake leans on the wall next to the table, avoiding some pottery shards on her way there.

‘’What met Yoake here must have been horrible.’’

The female feline stare beyond the wall in front of her, her expression blank and her mind eras away.

‘’Probably. My brain has... _refused_ to remember _some_ parts. I didn't pay much attention to anything other than killing the intruders and finding my Brothers and Sisters... my _friends_. When one arrived, the first thing she saw was Festus pinned to a tree with... _far_ too many arrows.  
One heard his screams through the forest long before they arrived at the Sanctuary... which meant they started with his limbs, to keep him alive for _as long as possible_... He... must have been outside when the Penitus Oculatus arrived, or he must have run outside when he heard the sounds of them trying to break in.’’  
A small, watery laugh fall from her lips, ‘’One wager half the scorch marks on the ground outside are _his_ work…’’

Yoake turns silent and start to head towards the stars that go even deeper into the Sanctuary.

‘’ _Are we_... going to venture _deeper_ inside?’’

‘’Mir can stay here if he wants...but _this_ one need to go deeper... need to reflect.’’

‘’Yes, of course... anpana is important. Hhhh, but this one will follow, and Skyrim can wait. Right now, _here_ is all that matters.  
Ignore the world outside,’’ the he-cat says while investigating the shelves.

‘’Yes... remembrance is indeed important, of both the good and the bad things. Very well.’’

 

Without another word, Yoake summons a new candlelight as the other was close to expiring, and head down the last set of stairs.  
The narrow staircase opens into a massive cavern with a large central pillar. To the left of it are the remains of a forge, and there is a peaceful pond to the right, fed by a small waterfall emerging from the cave wall beneath was must once have been a beautiful mosaic.  
Next to the pond is an impressive set of stairs, though its exit leading away from the cave has collapsed. There is a caved-in tunnel on their immediate right, past a stone basin like the one standing by what remains of the Black Door. Straight ahead is a Word Wall that is mostly intact.  
  
‘’ _Aahh_ , by the _Mane_ , a _Word Wall_!’’ Mi'rasj exclaims when he sees the ominous, concave wall. He jogs over and study its writing, with Yoake peeking over his shoulder. After some thought, she places her index claw on a certain word.  
  
‘’ _That_ word taught this one... _something_... something that hurts enemies over the span of a minute, but one is not sure what it actually means, only how to pronounce it in Dragonish... could this one read the text?’’  
  
Mi'rasj summons a candlelight himself. ‘’Follow Mir's finger. Let's see... '' _Nonvul_ bron... dahmaan daar rot... do fin... _fodiiz bormah_ : vah _krii_ ko morokei kein los wah zin geinmaar... wah dir ko morokei kein los wah zin pah do... _Keizaal_.'' Hm. The word Yoake learned was ''Krii''... _Kill_.’’  
  
‘’Oh. Hihihi, _marvellous_ ,’’ the female exclaims as she rubs her hands together with a mischievous expression. ‘’Care to translate, yasir-base?  
One will _even_ summon a candlelight if you start.’’

  
The male sighs and smiles. ‘’Sure, why not... ''Honourable''... no... '' _noble_ Nords... remember... these words of the... grey... white... ah, _hoar_ father: To _kill_ in''... happy? Ah, '' _glorious_ war is to... honour... _oneself_ , to _die_ in glorious war is to honour... all of _Skyrim_.'' So, loyalist. This confirms Mir's suspicions: that Nords generally fight without fear of death.’’  
  
‘’Makes sense. The afterlife of a Nord is only granted to them if they die in a ''glorious'' way, one has read. But now that this one knows the word; can he use the Shout? ‘’  
  
‘’Mir doubts it, as he cannot visualise what he wants to achieve. ''Kill'' or ''Krii'' is just too vague. _Hmm_... perhaps if _Yoake_ used it on occasion, this one would pick up on the desired effect, thus some of the knowledge _in_ that word, allowing him to Shout it? ‘’  
  
‘’Possibly. We will see. ‘’

‘’Right. That wall was a digression. What did Yoake see in this cave? ‘’  
  
The shrouded female seats herself on a medium-sized rock by the bank of the pond.

‘’She arrived in time to see Arnbjorn the werewolf and Veezara the Shadowscale fall, _there_ ,’’ pointing to the ground. ‘’I slew their killers.’’

‘’Gods... did _any_ of your friends survive the assault?’’ Mi'rasj says as he summons a candlelight himself.

‘’I _was_ in time to save Nazir, the Redguard, and together we tried to get out, but we were separated by a collapsing doorway, and this one was trapped in the room containing the Night Mother's coffin.’’ She points toward the shattered mosaic. ‘’One survived the flames by hiding in it.’’  
  
‘’Yoake survived the inferno by invading the sacred resting place of the Night Mother? Well, apparently she did not mind, otherwise this one would not be here today!’’  
  
‘’Actually, the Night Mother, uh... _invited_ this one to get into the coffin... which somehow ended up in the small lake behind me.  
Some solider probably tried to knock it over after he couldn't get it open, to desecrate the Sanctuary even more. Or Sithis made it so.  
Nazir managed to drag the coffin out. I remember hearing Babette telling him to _hurry up_ , and that she _just knew_ I was in there... and him complaining that her remarks were not helping getting the coffin out of the water.’’ A snort of laughter leaves her along with a genuine smile. ‘’Babette answered that a big, _strong_ man like Nazir couldn’t _possibly_ need help from a _little girl_.’’  
  
‘’Good thing there was enough air in there for Yoake! What happened after she emerged?’’

‘’Well... the Night Mother told me Astrid was still alive, so we searched for her. Found her in a secret chamber hidden in her room, near the map-room. She was incapacitated, but burned and... _charred_ ; nearly beyond _recognition_ , but _still_ breathing... _somehow_. Astrid had performed the Black Sacrament with _herself as_ the human effigy, to atone what she had done: selling me out and _still_ causing the destruction of the Sanctuary and Brotherhood. She admitted her betrayal there, and asked me to pick up the Blade of Woe... and _kill her_ , and so help her complete her atonement.’’

Mi'rasj is speechless, his gaze distant. He obviously pictures the horrific form of a scorched, skinless, hairless female spread out, candles and nightshade around her. He shudders, then summons a candlelight.

 ‘’This one did not know the Black Sacrament could be performed like _that_. She repented... successfully.’’

‘’Indeed.’’ Yoake says as she leaves the stone sat upon. ‘’Astrid had asked Sithis and the Night Mother that the Brotherhood would be given another chance, that we should not suffer due to her neglect of the Tenets... and apparently, they listened.’’

Yoake had drawn the Blade of Woe while she had explained Astrid's demise, and now holds it up before her, the sharp edges of the blade catching the light in a lightening glint, even as the rest of the blade remain dark and unreflecting. ‘’This is an assassin's blade, a killer’s tool... its purpose is to end life quickly and silently, while strengthening the life of its wielder.

‘’Mh, that blade has seen a _lot_ of blood. There will never be a shortage of _that_.’’

‘’Heh, true. It has served this one well and kept her alive through some rather hairy situations. Ready to head out, Mir?’’  
  
‘’ _Definitely_ ready, let's go! Oh, _eh_ , as fast as this one wants, of course.’’  
  
Yoake summons a candlelight and make her way to the stairs with the male hurrying ahead, as he cannot seem to leave the Sanctuary fast enough. At the start of the stairs she turns and look back one last time, closing her eyes and seeing the room as it had once been.

* * *

_The room is always bright and warm, lit by the burning forge in the corner and torches on the walls, their reflected flames dance on the ripples of the pond and across the red glass of the mosaic resembling the Night Mother’s coffin. The air is filled by the sounds of life, laughs, quiet conversation and Arnbjorn’s hammering at the forge, and under it all, the constant soft splashing of the waterfall. Nightshade and deathbell fill the room with their scent._

_Astrid standing in the doorway, ever serious, either talking with her husband, or looking over her family. Arnbjorn maintaining their weapons shirtless, while flirting with his wife. Assassins they may be, one ruthless and the other a werewolf, but it was clear to everyone who saw them that they loved each other dearly._

_Nazir would be in the dining hall, either reading or cooking. Or having lengthy "arguments" with herself and/or Gabriella, or sometimes Veezara, about herbs, spices and what to make for dinner. And always with a snarky comment ready. Astrid and Arnbjorn were banned from cooking on the grounds of their idea of making food was the typical Nord ''put-it-in-a-kettle-with-some-salt-and-call-it-dinner'' type of food making. And everyone but the two Nords got tired of that a couple days after entering Skyrim._

_Babette would be watching Lis the Frostbite spider and Festus as he mixed lethal poisons and helpful potions, and discussed poisons along with Gabrielle, all of them having advice if you asked. Weather or not it was going to be presented in a snarky manner varied from day to day.  
Herself, Nazir, and Gabriella had had some epic snark wars over the months._

_Veezara’a favourite place was beneath the Word Wall, beside the pond. Often silent, but always ready with a story of some amusing contract, most involving water. How often had she sat beside him there, making arrows, one setting the heads and them handing it to the other to be fledged..._

* * *

 

Mi'rasj clears his throat, startling Yoake out of her daydream, and gesture up the stairs. The pale female nod and follow, again casting one last glance over her shoulder at the bleak and destroyed room. Mi’rasj speaks to ease his tension as they arrive at the Black Door.  
  
‘’ _Hmm_ , although, being Khajiit, it would be difficult to find situations or places that _are not_ hairy.’’  
  
The female smiles and shakes her head. ‘’Not _that_ kind of hairy, sugar-tail, more like ''in danger of becoming a rug''-hairy situation! Now help me pull! _Oufh!_ ’’  
  
The male quickly joins Yoake in her effort to drag the door open. He speaks through his teeth as he exerts himself. ‘’Mir understood what this one meant... _he was_... simply _trying to be_... _funny-aah!_ ’’  
  
The two Khajiit suddenly fall on their tails, as the Door opened quite abruptly. During their Sanctuary visit, the sunny weather has been by overcast and refreshing drizzle, though birds still sing in the woods. Shadowmere and Arvak are standing by the pond and have raised their heads to greet their owners.  
  
Mi'rasj sighs as he gets up. ‘’Eehh, this one has been _more_ graceful... but maybe Mir should mute his brain, to silence his humour for a while...’’  
  
‘’Heh, no, don't mute it. _Your_ humour is better than mine anyway,’’ Yoake says with a tap on the male's arm.  
‘’Well... so _that's_ how this one became an assassin... by _fluke_.’’

‘’ _What_?! _Nothing_ is a... '' _fluke_ ''! At least not when it is _the_ _Dragonborn_ we speak of! _Of course_ there was meaning behind that event!  
True, we may not see the meaning ourselves, yet, but the Moons, _they do_! If we are lucky, the meaning will be revealed for us...  
or we will be allowed to determine the _correct_ meaning ourselves.’’

‘’Hmm... it _is_ true that when one joined, the Brotherhood was dying out... and now we are again feared all over Skyrim... Nazir says it's all thanks to me, but... well, it cannot be _just_ because of me... one might be Listener, but the others worked _just_ as hard.’’

 ‘’Mir is _sure_ they did their _absolute_ best... and he is sorry for Yoake's loss. But the path to restore old glory is never easy, or short.  
Sacrifices often must be made; some of these are regrettable... others are... _unavoidable_.’’

‘’ _This_ time... the sacrifices... were _them,_ ’’ Yoake says as she points to she hill across the pond. Mi'rasj follow her finger and spot several mounds he failed to notice before. Six small, individual ones, and a single large one, unmistakably a mass grave.  
  
Copying the gesture from before they went inside, Mi'rasj gently squeezes Yoake's shoulder from behind with his hand and slowly glide his thumb up and down. They stand in silence, the only sound is the occasional chirp and droplets hitting their target, be it water, leaves, horse or Khajiit.

After a moment, Yoake lets go of Mi’rasj hand, and walk over to a cluster of mountain flowers in varying colors growing between the trees, silently picking a few then walks over to the graves.

Kneeling and putting a couple of flowers on each grave, she names them.

‘’ _Arnbjorn_ , Nord, werewolf and Astrid’s husband. This one can’t remember ever seeing him with a shirt on.

 _Astrid,_ Nord as well, and our leader, who forgot the old ways in her eagerness to protect the only family and home she had.

 _Veezara_ , Argonian, the last of the Shadowscales. One of this one’s dearest friends.

 _Festus Krex_ , Imperial, grumpiest old mage you’d ever meet. His preferred method of completing a contract was, in his own words:  
Go up to them, introduce yourself, melt their face off and run like the wind.

 _Gabriella_ , a Dunmer who snored like a saw mill, though she would never admit it, no matter how often we told her... and the first to truly accept and believe that this one was the Listener. Her grave is empty, as she sleeps in the collapsed part our home.

And _Lis_ , her pet frostbite spider, who died beside her.’’

‘’Uradana vituka,’’ the male signs.

 ‘’ _Are_ you, Mir? _Are_ you sorry for those one lost?’’  
  
‘’Mir is sorry for the effect their death had on Yoake.’’  
  
The female simply nods, then gesture to their mounts.

‘’Where to?’’ Mi'rasj asks.

‘’To this one's manor, Lakeview,’’ Yoake answers as she pulls the hood over her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta'agra Dictionary:
> 
> Liter = Brother
> 
> Draj khrassozay qojiit shabar oriit vakovona! = Evil clawless coward in woman form!
> 
> Epako = Family
> 
> Gzalzi = Absurd
> 
> Wafiit = Fool/stupid (literally ''One who stupid’s'')
> 
> Anpana = Remembrance (recollection, reminiscence)
> 
> Yasir-base = Yasir (smart) + base (head), one with aptitude for learning, or "smarty-pants" in humorous sense
> 
> Uradana vituka= Sorry lost (Sorry (for your) losses)


	12. Note from the Authors

Hi there fine people of... the world I guess. I was going for something dramatic there, didn't quite work out the way I hoped.  
Anyway, _this is Northern speaking_ , and I just want to apologize for not updating the story. The thing is... we, that is Viking and I, have just about caught up with and posted the chapters we have already written, and are now writing as we go, pretty much. And since we both have not only full time jobs but also other responsibilities, this means updates will be a bit more... _sporadic_ from here on out. 

Have no fear however! Chapter 12 will come, I am working on it. (So no, I don't need help, my dear Viking) I have a plan, and I know what I going to write... I'm just having a bit of trouble transforming the story in my head into words on... not paper, but a computer screen. So yeah... My most humble apologies, and please be patient with me.

Peace Out and have a great day! 

(P.S. I have been staring at the Word document in frustration all day, trying to word things right. Sometimes being bilingual sucks...)  
  
_______________________________________________________________  
  
**VikingWalker here**. I knew this day would come. The day we would make this sad announcement.  
This was bound to happen someday. Now that it has, chapters will indeed come more erratic.  
Difficult to estimate how frequent. Once every 2 weeks, 3 weeks, once a month? Something like that.  
We now have bits and pieces of the draft of the story of Mir and Yoake, quite a bit ahead in their lives, days and weeks after chapter 12.  
But connecting the dots into a well-paced, cohesive, and fleshed-out story arc will take time.  
Until a proper chapter 12 is published, have fun reading through the chapters we have already posted,  
preferably in chronological order. I can guarantee you each chapter will different from when you first read it! ;3  
Oh, and I have finally finished the revamped flashback in chapter 5! (15.05.18) ^_^  
  
**Update 17th of October 2018:**  
In case you feared or wondered, no, we have not abandoned our Fanfic. It's still coming to life... slowly, but surely.  
We'll answer any questions you have!  
  
**Update 14th of November 2018:**  
WOAH! 250 + 3 hits on this fanfic! Thank you, yes, _you_! Thanks a ton from both of the authors, dear curious, geeky reader!  
(even if you were one of those who regretted clicking your index finger to access these chapters)  
NorthernAurora is still writing away.


End file.
